The
Hunchback of Notre Dame
Walks
among these words
A
parabola of despair
Languishes
in Euclid, warm
And
tense like a truth
Or
bar of soap. And here I am
Humming
a song of thread
To
get it out of my head
I
like to hang from a limb
Like
an apple and rub
The
dribble of juice
From
my chin. Properties
Of
meaning are tangible
To
the mind that hatches
Out
of an egg of thought
Think
of it, think of an egg
And
feel it as I do, round
And
white and smooth
In
the hand. Detail
Your
life in the greenhouse
Tell
me what your eyes see
On
the inside of your head
Life
is often sticky that way
This
is why I smell like an erection
Of
syntax, a fistful of consonants
And
vowels walking in the bones
Of
a hunchback. Swinging
Back
and forth on a giant bell
Howling
my love to the angels
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