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Mitch Corber

WEATHER'S FEATHER

 

Chase change in chiméra's conduit,
peak at the pluck of weather's feather.
Swap opportunities in dizzy song,
a surrogate leaping deeper-than-thought,
conscious as a wheel cog,
consummate as a cheering union.
 
Ride the wakened blend of back-break,
for gods' sakes a siren shimmering on the wane,
the brain-drain abandoned to a tortoise shell
of hellbent Wednesdays, a spooning outcrop
of the thrumming dumbing down of
bound sweat and braggage.
 
Move me as any movie
from a voyeuristic crouch
in trial-bubble bingo,
the ringtone nesting in a pensive
lemondrop opportunity.
 
While the peal of an early bell
deciphers its piety in a pricked blister,
to etch a wretch his bloody bond of crotch and hairs,
assembling in a wintry blink
this bare reference to the shin of shy resurfacings,
the bleating treatment of a bully goat.
 
Slashed as an asking price, tonight's itinerary
spites the sticker shock of drip-dry druids
in fluid robe, giving Death the breath it dreads,
in a seismic nocturnal foraging,
maintaining a moth-eaten mortgage
of the sordid spackled facts.

 

 

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DIDDLED RIMPLE

 

                    I

 

I've riddled the tidal wafer wrist
intentions somehow moist in arid
corners Mondays serene
of a nervy evening deemed
to renew the wiry greetings
 
This jealous warp in lieu
of persons in the personal
likewise a chewed indentation
gnawed the Bostonian
longshoreman dimpled with
a peek into the plastic
 
Inflate life vest as you exit
East West Mexican Air a
frere jacques lilt debonair
rare books supersweet treat
to the root of runaway cuticles
cutaway below the blade
 
Knots fit the noose they
frazzle with all the tugging
nagging and foul play
radiating from lumbar-sag
and ear jag the centerpiece
a three-dollar bill of fare

 

                    II

 

Fistfuls of fashion stamp sunken eyes
with drunken litanies of civilitude
minis moved to strut the damp
emotions stoned to aching ears
peculiar to spikes rip-roaring
 
Pundits appeal to the ridges
of soft-sprung Tantalus lifting
limitless charades of stay-at-home
skeletal titillations tossed raw
through the lunatic tunic
 
Shoulders older than mercury
midrange danger tiles a bowed
enclosure roosting in the nestle
of a now forgotten urgency
furthering the claim of mainframe
cities borne of belligerence
 
Huts of scud, rude irrational
bellypots rustic in a thud manner
belts slapped from the scrape
of a mattress trapped by embraceable
bubbles on a bitter tongue

 

                     III

 

If juries ascertain a
lane change in the chinese
checker lexicon the wily
wind will issue a temporary
lapse in the pastiche
of the day's most proud
Things manifest in an oodle
of Thai noodles slurping
slithery cheek shrieks of
tingle rhythms in time to wriggle
the raw tentacles of a tickle
Unwrinkling the brewing
moment eviscerating a cello
and her articles of sin
relegated to a purposed
imposing of double rubdowns
in a speakable stew endowed
Rash in the fast lane
of furious expectations
no second guess was a test
of merit or motive
his was a brutal breeze
in the leapfrog rumination

 

 

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LEVITATION

 

It’s levitation, larynx of lush archery
Yellowed perch, parrot tipsy
     Locally
     a blinkin’ eye
 
Would browns announce a cowbell? A low choir
of dewy eye and salty hymn on the wane?
     Theories fly haphazard
     in Kansas disasters
 
Yes need teeters in a twig, resister to a thick
windy grip on its membrane nervings
     Connective urgings angling rivers
     purge where they surge
 
But grace is not too great for Grandma
Her cure for tired feet, a flash of ancient action
     Before the weathered pages
     of re-telling
 
Our guest is October’s gust, a tug at the cuff
Late cocktails accrue a rash of ashes
     A speech of worn knuckles
     curiosity, creeds
 
Stock footage of hats, rows of empty seats
The bristle of a Fall sale, a whale of a deal
     Bear a brand name, Betty
     Buy buy buy!

 

 

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INSOMNIA

 

the poor are precious
to your integrity
or
your reasons are
darts that slant along
the strand

the beach is night
the stoop burns
it's holy
this tension returns
candidate
to my insomnia

 

 

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LAPSE

 

she lapses at the shy grasp
of tattered favors
 
slurred hurts will hurtle her
into north winds
 
and who speaks with an accent
gets his chicken in a basket