Sonnet

after Ted Berrigan

In splendid assortment sublime I
wear a song swaying trees
bloodstream now puking
a crash some twinge instinct proud
anointed because I have class
hangovers now everybody’s congealing
in spring I shattered Rick’s curving
a dream and watch myself cabin haunted
leads to knife pattering rain quarter
mocked an argument left with Christy
and no longer afraid
my intuition dismantled relaxing hands.

Growing decay seems dizzy and frail –
– in the midst of absorbing trails

-r. miller

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