Sunday megamix poem no. 1

O! a sea to twinkish sunset! All this
sunsettery — dim as tinder, and here
a few dozen. Let’s fall was the old game:
Customary change comes by nite, leaving
a vague tradition. Fits
of night, fling and thingly! Time tight
in shadows, else charming — too deep. Been
dancing to Trotsky’s call, ankles in
proper places, surprising. Kind of uh-oh.
And for this: every other gust
of my vowels now doubled like lost lips!




[Compiled exclusively from words and phrases used in the previous week’s poems; punctuation is, by and large, new. I began with something of a procedure, alphabetizing each line to find unexpected combinations where one line ended and a previously-unrelated line began. The final poem is a selection and re-ordering of those results.]