March 19, 2007

                                                     NONCE SONNET 4



                                                                  up’s op-


                                                             to streak: rush

                                                            hour.  The  PA                             

                                                          system organizes

                                                         muck, and my luck

                                                        is behind one who’d

                                                     rather  preempt humble

                                                 conjecture  with a  jeremiad

                                         than reach his pristine bar or seedy

                                    bower before the late show. The power

                                to tuck in high-tech earplugs is encouraged

                          by a paper friend unless I’m inclined to ride bass

                        lines below unmodulated treble.  You might pluck

               an expiring flower  from the waiting room floor  to save it

          for an aspiring gatherer’s open pouch. Where farming of image                     

     is neither inherently devil  (e.g. stealing from those presumed mute)  

  nor blessed delivery, where ouch is neither  trounced nor deified, she’ll

pitch a scrimmage  for poetics. Where any  ceiling is unafraid to fluctuate.


—Thomas Fink

Posted by dwaber at March 19, 2007 12:04 PM