Push to Crawl

Moving
Through the stethoscope of fear
Punish walls with fist
Dry stench of wheat beer
Raging
Part man, full amazement
Minty fresh leaves
Punch Tyson in the basement
Trading
Decay of new millenniums
Commodity of copper
Conduct heat canned
By the aluminum
Driving
Push stones to the side
Polished fingernail scent
Unglued, shot with bromide
A snail's pace

Her Lips Are Copper Wire, by Jean Toomer

whisper of yellow globes
gleaming on lamp-posts that sway
like bootleg licker drinkers in the fog

and let your breath be moist against me
like bright beads on yellow globes


telephone the power-house
that the main wires are insulate


(her words play softly up and down
dewy corridors of billboards)


then with your tongue remove the tape
and press your lips to mine
till they are incandescent