After Tomorrow

Jed holds the sea and my leg
The sitters of sirs pass off like oscillations
On hard knocks, meds sit against
Some frisky lad’s stone elbow
Still some stench of the summer night

Jed holds me again, a frisky lad’s elbow
Or a folk song’s game coming after
The reign of my psychdom

In here no one, I, anyone
Some words in sirs languages
Of gambles and reconnaissance
Some 14, stark, end over end
Bleak meds, some pain after the fever

The game
Some blind sick self injures the word
And loses a language
Carved in stone:
“Oh my king, the game is over, I’m sovereign.”
…And listen

--Pietro Scorsone

Nora Almeida: Integral #1 Integral #2 Integral #3
Richard Pearse: A Woman Cloud Young and Angry at the Moon
Olga Pester: the roof of merger refrigerator memo
Joe Robitaille: Oleo Strut Oligarchy Strychnine The Rest of Lamps
William Sanders: Easter Poem [another poem by W. Sanders (& another)]
Sarah Sarai: hAve You Been Married, the Sister asK
Pietro Scorsone: After Tomorrow Random 1-4