the regalia that choruses call their own
amidst opulent rejoinders, cavort wherever
noisome fulsome possibilities create the
apertures for endurance of select defiances.

once to seep where nothing gracious went,
how the possible gratitude would serve itself
inflammatory learning from tellurian posters
underscored by reflection in the generalized.

previously the results of being away would not
hasten the rain of dusk wherever pleasingly
the string quartet dinner soup kitchen veers
out of control as fertility is debated by gnomes.

once to foist upon the humanity of creators
by syringing the ultimate indelible asphodel,
the retinues demand control of inspiration, a
softening of once-performed silences.  aware

of the numinous, nothing was said, as raided
by creation those too large for entrance went
outside and grated teeth for wooly mammon
to parachute wherever otherwise imitated flesh

went before the trammeled flotillas.  however
lost they feared themselves, at a rotund molecule
to flee, they scratched the card to finesse a secret
that no other world had seen befriended by light

or dark.  now with the cameras to rescind a 
politeness of serum amnesia that paralleled
the softness of skin understood, no other lament
waited for abrupt naming from the harassment

of delight from serpents.  understood as some
other paradox, how many times cold or light
would speak, nothing went unstated for those
curious lateral bundles of glee that screamed

for salmon and eggs in the ocean of dust and
desire.  swimming upstream was always their
delight and no favor called outwardly too large
for incendiary mitoses to begin where otherwise,

not being harvested for above regalia, one becoming
motile and conservative was clustered about the
raiment of the quixotic that had not apparel to
cover its soft body.  nothing warned them then

of what was to predict names of deepening rage.
however loathed by fill-ins, rhetoricians could not
sample the whole day of silence without a burst
of laughter that inflamed the elders of times'

leadership.  guttural as the slices of cake were cut
by the kingdom's caveats, nothing befriended the
rubric that went without comment and commas
whether or not 'too late was not too much' as the

sold-out men and women always said.  this is a
void in the porcelain that no caveat could begin
to accompany without needing some breath from
the solvable meditations under the roof of tuned

rumors so late as to begin with a snarl that fades
to a smile.  previously no poverty was accompanied
by a pleading, previously no packages were turned
back to the sender - it is a motionless lake that 

finds us here in the featureless imagination of pure
movement and storm, no range too tropical.

The East Village Poetry Web
Peter Ganick