S h i r a D e n t z —

To octopus ~

To wear verbs as if they’re corpuscles blistering with clout, excitable

to mount. Complex ones stand to the side, mentoring others.

Your verbs the size of nickels, baby octopi floating upward from their

eggs. Eggs like medicine balls, stitched and quietly weighted.

A baby octopus rises, tentacles like petals flowering, pulsing through

water like air. A delicate verb, somewhat transparent at first, sought-

after and vulnerable to prey.

You wear verbs with style; attached at the hip, as it’s said whether or

not you remember your early days depends on your attachment style.

The orange sky’s a daffodil

The world walks bent with a cane. The feel of metal is sharp A.

Today I read a poem that introduced Charles Reznikoff

as being from Manhattan and Los Angeles.

The world races along doing jumping jacks

while catering picnics.

Give me a bump, I’m crushing it.

A Japanese garden is needed because you’re tall.

The sun glazed like a swan gliding on water.

The surly brick of love.

Sheers invited friends to dinner and cooked a gourmet meal;

she stocked up on pantry items first.

We will be inventive in our later years,

we will be like the Great Lakes,

a liquid vase.

Take your hat, brush it up and down,

pull it over your ears, then take a bath.

Shana tova!

The wind is supposed to turn into a bully tonight.

A daffodil can go belly up and ring a bell.

Revolutions

How is it a tall order to be parachuted into a French portrait painting.

Mosquitoes all in their galore. Ruminations twinkling moribund lilts. A woman’s

dress squeezed tightly at the waist and bulging below like an upside-down cup,

stately. An impressionist unsteadiness. An approximation, a constellation we

cool sentence from to cool.

Add a man drunk with decoy. Playing laws and response up above.

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