Muss

To a long eel from the sideburns
I spoke how unclean widows weaving
A thousand clowns the muddle, was it
To irritate you as you wriggled we poked

If there were thought and thought,
Hunger and hunger, will… and will…
We might have impatience
Memory, memory, mine-filled

Clown through “I knew” — that
Platypus arranging milk “I know”
And the red thread wrapped what
We met I lost through Taschen decades

— Glam words alone sponging —
God, filled without spoonbill
elongated, making them
And us not just “one”

At the top as through a dark soda fountain
Just enough syrup
That meant spitup, de-sire, stalactite
Pool or tinkling fountains of sprite.