the INLAID EAR

  The library     for Marna Scooter Cascadia and John Fox John and I ordered two slices and a raspberry soda each. We ate and took turns reciting snips and strophes within easy reach, chuckling, focusing or sighing to fit the words, until our speech joined together at Innisfree. We chanted that secluded beach into being. John beamishly coaxed in Yeats’ cat, Minnaloushe, who puzzled the moon, far and wee— and so we came upon Cummings hiccupping that typography over our paper plates and crumbs. We stood up. It was time to teach of what had passed and what would come, how poems make a honeycomb.

The library     for Marna Scooter Cascadia and John Fox John and I ordered two slices and a raspberry soda each. We ate and took turns reciting snips and strophes within easy reach, chuckling, focusing or sighing to fit the words, until our speech joined together at Innisfree. We chanted that secluded beach into being. John beamishly coaxed in Yeats’ cat, Minnaloushe, who puzzled the moon, far and wee— and so we came upon Cummings hiccupping that typography over our paper plates and crumbs. We stood up. It was time to teach of what had passed and what would come, how poems make a honeycomb.