Friday, November 14, 2008

John M. Bennett

Number Rat

number what your foot cries shuttered
in the stunning fog thumb ,rut nor looted
flies guttering in the numbing slog intoward
the stewing throat you clumb the sputtered
soot the thighs uttered through the slumber
hog ,the forward glue moat or sung your
clutter-suit your sighs your buttered rat

More Chain

chain or tubmeat quickened shore shirt
tailored with an axe or rain floor ,stubbed
sheet licked nor dirty tales ,wrist of
flat rocks and spiders .pain spore clubbed
,yr feet picked the lore spurted bales of
mist’s fat socks and choirs ,whistled
stain no more