Art of Poetry
I sat before the shattered screen the
wire plugged in and ground my teeth the
splintered bone was words to calculate
the random breakage pattern of the glass;
the words took shape, became 3D, grayish
worms that slicked the jagged points, a
crown of buns, a heart with twisting bacon at the
center, crossed buzzsaws rising to the sky
—John M. Bennett
____
c. 1975
from John M. Bennett, MEAT WATCH, Columbus: Fireweed Press, 1977