Hypnagogic
—for Michael and Trish
Surge covets the synthesizer.
Fluent sugar thwack, spiderhole fop.
Yet another imbroglio—
I wish we were. Your permanence
a worry in the natatorium. Who slapped the children?
Pedicure suture.
Bee seizure at cream, sipping lattes.
If stardust oceanographer
then Vicodin, lust—
sorry for my ambidexterity.
Sipping lattes and smoking
thousands of times.
Astroturf’d, the transcendent doctor,
waxwork a mass for chandeliers.
One hundred stones the number
of clicking archangels: 39, 12, 19, 23.
A gown subdued nectar—
sorry for my analog,
the granules wear kindling.
Salt is abundant.
Tony Trigilio’s most recent book is the poetry collection Historic Diary (BlazeVOX, 2011). He is a member of the Core Poetry Faculty at Columbia College Chicago and co-edits Court Green.