A Biographical Mesostic
brimming, drowNing our other wilted bidders,
he'll erect the first shAm berlin: bosomed inside,
or else snug underground, freed from The pale loom of
glacIers,
a man can't but turn Over, that is, if he's asked (if it's
his time): is he calm arouNd
lutherAns, dour methodists,
the Like?: in our age of raspy widows,
murmurs of deaTh by absence, while chicago's scowling down,
daRing
everYone
we love to teach her children: "punk rock'S a lie," dark under
a marble pillar, all berT's spurious dreams of big casks
©2010 National Tryst