I
can formulate plans
Like
a tv pope or a grown man
Wrapt
in invisible storms
Just
because I’ve got no patience
All
their heads will spin unearthed
There
in the tv that goes and goes
Around
my globe
The
endless homeruns in real languages
That
speak and tweet to
The power of my fabulous fingers
All
the whys of the world
Broadcast
through the tunnels of my nerves
A flock of panicked birds swell my skin
Like
gold like god
In
a silver cloud I never thought
I’d
talk so much about him
And
now how his words rattle around my tongue like crickets
Lance La Rocque lives in Wolfville, NS. With Lisa, Emily, and Max. He has published in Hava LeHaba, Industrial Sabotage, and The Northern Testicle Review, and has a book of poetry, Vermin, by Book Thug.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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