Three Poems
———
Two tips up to Lock Wind
Seen something keep
seeing something
Yellow volume (as child)
points off to 2 locks clearing
the lane of Doug fir keep clearinghouses
Douse off squelch (the underfoot mode)
Milk suck with hereditary bone spurs
Terrace abalone lend flynt abysmal
and to recharge unending
Riding cold heat seeping in its fog
till bleeding
Wears jackets in heats because
used to the liquor in belly
Only to move Mind Face over next mount
ain then sane, wring wept Need to be said
on now
Relic husks trotting flu a bit here and so
gene warrant and fight the immune one
Beholding metatron as glossary for leaning
Hues to Hanoi
An attempt to send our paints to
Vietnam
All these tastes charred in between the ears (incentive) Cellar soot glob (cleared)
Wrench from banff scum Well a guy
hiked his pants up, tattoos launder concision
backing up a pill speaker frenetic singes
Pirate perfumes himself -atomizes to chessboard on by and by A raw deal
Elizabethan theater urges twin trees along towards the other outside of Higher Permis
sive states in siege Moss igneous withstanding -a trial we owe an ode
———
Down the pike// A great evacuation lubricating the lines to push out the Exodus and inducing hammer fidgeting for a prize of survival// Off at slight blueblack is rubber hosing forking over a laught proposal as bird pecking under fence line for closure and plenty// but there isn’t plenty — they haven’t told you yet? Grocery bag with hole.
Fair-tassels hexameter
entrusted to a(s)certain set
so rabid homme of nomenclature
flexed limpid w/ hard water drops to
the forehead an intuition that washes
bare the hardened rice on our plates an
this is harshly believed but the rain spout
falls in its lofty aims grocery bag views the army surplus donning mass and writhes para
palegia at the palais of slick ice in the field of the cornea
———
The Afters a grey blue lob
and there is no say of what to eat
sleep drink or feel
As of now a drop rise retains the draws and guts of our fruition
Cobweb of solar plexus stab wounds at the corner of The Behind
Denture walls: a wise place for warblers letting down and seething Loans for meek opposing stature gestures(offhandedly)
These and others small places in a big one
Phosphorous and incandescence are relaying a lesion thisll close it up
All these image mines —lesions more so
∩
Wesley Harden is a poet and bookseller living in Kansas City. His poems have previously appeared in Vat.