Ease the noon from a nectarine, flap flame from paraffin
as chemical absorption, tempt removal from a name,
a stanza out on a limb, or this limbless stanza.
Compromise is a posture - backfill
fond of a compromise - and this stanza is
made from a nectarine fond of a name.
Is it handwritten?
Is it powerful?
Is it an honest stanza?

A synonym for ameslan:
paintbrushing pinkies -
essentially inequitable,
but as intersected as herringbone?
Attach a thespian's
pinkie to a teakettle
and the bone bestirs
air, an aliquot protrusion
equating to ameslan.

Intolerance in artwork: like a lawyer's posy,
the attrition of a lockout, the iniquity of a
buzzword. Like a pyrex arpeggio - not like a Schumann arpeggio
or even shrilly Schumann - but like pickle to crabmeat
(crabmeat qua crabmeat qua crabmeat); or a pyrex posy.
It is god's lockout.
It is also Aristotlean logic.
Zoom to the intolerance in artwork: ornate retail
or god's crabmeat.

Just a tablespoon of dissonance -
sweet as civet, soft as carrageen,
sepulchral as a cleric - the bodhisattva
noticeably teethed,
gnarled in a mosque,
wilful as an eagle,
raw as a ferret.
Run eagle run
coy as a chambermaid.

If it were her memoir, a subjunctive
inventory of girlie excursions into
upstanding tons of sex, it would not be
exculpatory, but inward looking,
this siren invariably rehearsing
the subject of her memoir,
a patentee of fuck -
and mercy me to read how she detonates
on a candlestick.

The Abyss: an apology for god's nightclub.
A calumny, a glorious denunciation of its
permutation on a kerygma: incomprehensible octagon.
In retrospect, it was always dark as anthracite,
propelled to decipher its reversion to
So a penultimate home -
penultimate glorious calumny -
The Anthracite nightclub.

The brinkmanship of a verdict
and orography of a sequel
is a prosthetic style, rosily domestic.
It shouts like a less-bled typeface
and is the prodigal daydream with its
own clientele.
This is its pathetic
rosy fanaticism with
a clientele at its fingertips.
Mike Ferguson 2008