JED MUNSON
Redlines
does draw a blues a curtain along
a greenfleshed ash
does draw a blues a curtain along
a greenfleshed ash
What summoned the small thing? Dark
light surrounded us, the wretched
Metaphor has been stolen from the poet.
It was the mouthlark, I mean it was morning
i told the nishinaabe parliamentarian
tasting of pine, clear
breath of it
He won’t stay up
when I need him so I stay out late
Somewhere the lake’s shore
meets the overcast dark
You left and the earth bent your sorrow out of view.
I say, upon hearing the name, imma write
a poem with that title