Two poems

by Jake Berry


Building (blind writings)

by J. Lehmus


Two poems

by Thomas Lowe Taylor

    Daily Log / June 11, 1995


    I

    Delay, she said, your arcing triumph, no meat `er
    in yr mists, tracked below handles of door was
    inclement disc her own private Montana of friction
    refunds the dream's significance in parts bestrode out.

    But the bee stings. I know that. They'd wheeled into
    my own swinging Kung Fu of escapes no doubt the
    apple itself an issue over what might become you
    in sense or outer, heel'd-out and thrum'd a thalweg.

    Love had you over me, and what leaned at first
    forward knockers would stray intent calmer pines
    are not reclined butter knocks out hammering lines
    the pastor delimit from hoser dogs the outer air.

    And hits them upper dares decide my own populaces
    whirring remind re-wind or blowing skin away
    from the business at hand, a hand in handed
    hours I watched out how you came inside me.

    These lobes of rhoda; not imprecise, you know, butt held
    from indistinction in players also shelled out to
    other hours sung perhaps away from all of this
    infernal soup of knots. They polled me for this relay.

    And dare your name my lips ahead & stammer outer parts
    are inner scenes of light beheld inflamed passions
    let under hand their own fumes and alt positions.


    II

    Your dick. The shielded spiner spoke out again;
    at last a truer design was in the work no starts
    too soon but was it just a dream away you
    said the day would come again and stay & stay.

    The collar answer'd, but there was none. My luck.



    Daily Log / Jul 29.95


    I

    Neither abandon nor light all there is,
    you are someone made intense by time's lines
    from the heart, outer makes its way inside.
    Yr art & sentenced marked illumined from within.

    Nor foment staum, relax her outer tempos in
    this is the timing span, I called you dream enough
    to become present within circumstances favored by
    what's come, come to pass, passing into the air to be.

    Re-lidded repose no master enjoins beyond doubt
    what's flooded sense a sign within at outer coils
    have dotted the landscape, and you were there.
    A flutter abides her presence, wings spread for flight.

    This land so long unspoken of love's attributes along
    said passion's positions more than tongue's convenience
    into song along your long line into that as rides
    between gasps becomes this, made flesh as word.

    It's the empty hours that weigh so long, despite these
    tremors to the contrary realm, as I am contrary , too,
    and sped between alliances as if there were no in
    between to spare these sensations of their thrift & song.

    She came to life & spoke shuttered portions opened
    out to my own arena of concord & spin to
    lesser gods have opened up to give against you.


    II

    My dick. What'd been a calling turned out to be
    an answer on the telephone from about twenty miles
    down the downer dream what's gone from this
    picture spares you the softer aliens denied love.

    Tenor leaven. She turned around & laughed. My luck.



GLOSSOLALIA 3: Copyright © 1995 J. Lehmus. All individual works Copyright © 1995 by their respective authors. All further rights to works belong to the authors and revert to the authors on publication.