The Cleave Masters
—for Phuoc-Tan & Diana
Let’s discuss—cleavage
And co-editing—the Cleave
Imho it’s—a tri-editorship
I’m for delegating—the pdf thing
To your good graces—diana
Your complex cleaves—deserve it
The baroque style—of your friends
Needs your love—and attention
Your style—different than mine
I’m more simple—and intuitive
When it comes—to cleaving…
Phuoc-Tan—invented the Cleave
What more—can we ask of him?
He’s more than a Poet—though
He’s a webzine master—as well…
The Cleave has picked him—to be
The Cleave Master—I think so
His online poetry book—says so
With early cleaves—and diastics
He’s got the—ball rolling and
Monitors the—new genre well…
But who am I—to pontificate
About avant—garde poetics?
I center myself—in the Tree
The tree of language—there in
The Darke Woode—there in the
Olympic Rain Forest—over on
The Pacific coast—by the Hoh
The giant Douglas Fir Tree—
The one I—told you about
The one reaching—into the sky
Surrounded by—droves of
Hungry seagulls—with cicada
Singing louder—and louder
Thousands of them—hurriedly
Crawling up—thru the thick
Veined cracks—in the bark
Of Yggdrasil—the World Tree
The cicadas—singing into the
Forest sky—next to my cabin
Surrounded by—circling gulls
Whole guilds—of them…
—for Phuoc-Tan & Diana
Let’s discuss—cleavage
And co-editing—the Cleave
Imho it’s—a tri-editorship
I’m for delegating—the pdf thing
To your good graces—diana
Your complex cleaves—deserve it
The baroque style—of your friends
Needs your love—and attention
Your style—different than mine
I’m more simple—and intuitive
When it comes—to cleaving…
Phuoc-Tan—invented the Cleave
What more—can we ask of him?
He’s more than a Poet—though
He’s a webzine master—as well…
The Cleave has picked him—to be
The Cleave Master—I think so
His online poetry book—says so
With early cleaves—and diastics
He’s got the—ball rolling and
Monitors the—new genre well…
But who am I—to pontificate
About avant—garde poetics?
I center myself—in the Tree
The tree of language—there in
The Darke Woode—there in the
Olympic Rain Forest—over on
The Pacific coast—by the Hoh
The giant Douglas Fir Tree—
The one I—told you about
The one reaching—into the sky
Surrounded by—droves of
Hungry seagulls—with cicada
Singing louder—and louder
Thousands of them—hurriedly
Crawling up—thru the thick
Veined cracks—in the bark
Of Yggdrasil—the World Tree
The cicadas—singing into the
Forest sky—next to my cabin
Surrounded by—circling gulls
Whole guilds—of them…
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