Blood on the poem's
margins
from all our teeth and lips,
rhymes and
tongue slips,
rhythms incarnadine
on fingertips,
paradiddle yawps
and yips.
Shout your own
songs,
spatter wordblood
from
your red ellipse.
Blood on the poem's
margins
from all our teeth and lips,
rhymes and
tongue slips,
rhythms incarnadine
on fingertips,
paradiddle yawps
and yips.
Shout your own
songs,
spatter wordblood
from
your red ellipse.