many falsely aver
they are others
—Wayne Koestenbaum
1.
behold the
prismatic
ectoplasmic
array of
glistening
hues that
emanate
from my
foraged
leaves
2.
“yes, i have been
a poet for some
time,” sung to
the tune of
“Rock Around the Clock”
3.
his
“gotcha!”
seethes
like her
toothless
phonograph
4.
various
permutations
grip me
about the
bent knees
in the manner
of what this
song is—
in actuality—
about
if only
i were
(aloud)
to truly sing it
