Chuck Knoblauch, the Twin
to my incompetency [right
arm from the mind amputee];
E4! E4! E4! An eraserless pencil.
When second to first seemed
most consequent and quick, a
murky ick-of-a-Grue split
the Is and the If.
Chuck Knoblauch flew to the
South of the Bronx if only to Find
We are not all Babe Ruths.
A buckram creamfall
of light – phós in the Greek
mathematician’s Mind
[stark laceration from the Soul]
illumines the quiet murder
in a choir pew. Ascetic,
wretched fleshsucked skull;
vaporous farceform, from
an earth whose dirt
is a dream.August unfurls,
poised haughtily
at/in/to/from/by/with/upon
my sides.
We spent a lot
of time before
our dimes run out;
“Nickel please?”