A Sparrow Now That He Thinks of It

ART’s pointless perspective
[the allure, how are you?]
upsifts images
frozen to radios

Makes poems about Tampa
a sparrow or Lorca
(now that he thinks of it)
a sexism’s mnemonic doll head
a village or pillagers’ charmed consensus.

ITs version of “Abigail”
[in situ, a dark one]
jots pint-size, aspirin-like haiku
(never sweeter than Suzie’s suites
of sonic booms in metaphors)
to chums, Javier & Manuel

& Lorca (on fire
in cubby holes of identical
squash patches)
wrestles the evidence
alar upon twos
can only remark
how late his dinner is