Sunday, July 1, 2007

Bob Marcacci


after several attempts to speak to these people
i try again
again in this faceted darkness culling personality
to strip words from the void that swallows language
stabbed air and lace
rated blessing among utterances
in the cusp of communication
we don't understand
nuance and flip exchangeidle banter
i try
fashioning deities
patterns below the surface
with my knives and cravings
in archaeologic abundance
hot air and terminolog
your reflections
in the dusty mirror
in this light

*previously published in Poetry Fish - Spring ‘06

Two poems from a series of alphabet poems

X Marks

the spotty telex
facsimile fax in a faux
exiguous hawk
spotless necktie
exit X-wing heretic
plotting amscray on the tottering
treasure map of an expatriot
X-File negativity fowl in a foray
not X-ray vision nor incision
rescinding exoskeletal cramp
non-superman or even manly nonsuch
existential stencil in a pencil-box
no merry X-mas
nary a speck of X-centricity in this gen-X
examine the signature he marked
dotted line spark
dotting eyes crossing teesX-ing X-es
sexing yes yes in a fearless
anti-inflammatory execution
eccentric exemic examiner
conferer of letterature
letter X or let her lay
crossing her legs and flex
star-crossed executor
batting her eyes at my fix
crossing out words
in inexact inflection
or actually axeing
dead weight


too wise for your own good
should your lies reach those yearned for
vowel hues
reconciled whiler in the idyllic styles
perhaps widening and wined
the final interrogative of the alphabet
questionable penultimate cry
from this letter to a relative form
unwind the wise (prelude before Z)
by breezes and high-flying bygones
love-letter of my time
a rhyme among the icy white
of writing yeoman
in your imagination
wire and hi-jinxa fine line
letter with a tail
i write to you
why i do

*previously published in Niederngasse - May/June ‘06


drink more and then begin knowing how much
we need from conversation
mulch of the loud bar scene
forces us closer together because we can't
make-out what we're saying
in the dirty back part
of the lounge

let's go somewhere else

screwed in sockets angel the charge of electricity and me

i plummet
jazzed in the bedroom rock
under dim blue party-bulb haze
nose quite a bit bigger than the rest
of the features forgetting
a mouth of limes and fingers of tequila
to lemon in the green years
red eyes set to peel

haloes of gabriel garcia marquez

*previously published in Zafusy

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