Still Lost: The Found Memo
Lambs in limbo kneel before a graze.
I place your curtsy at stone eyestops.
Sliding with amorphous sheen
Where near whose marina your calls
Hear their absence
in the seafarer's ear...
Firearms on lease have hired sitters
For their empty arsenals.
Bastions of alabastard invalids who
Wings in mesmerized footslippers
Coaxing escape into an imaginetic field,
Drawn by magnets taking art lessons.
Of the crazed slips from my lips.