Robert Harmon

MEMORIES THERE SIT

they trade wind dust, twisted as to hold it
writing silence on our woe disguised roads
world long peace tongue, their earth dressed in ash
our carry rotting as memories there sit

State calling habituary findsman
Falls break allotment
Fossil lecture series.

SPILLOVER PRESENT

Critical mass thought forums afflict this day and age.
experts trade articles, and get questions reflected
Every last view carries a page.
A varied squabbling tennis match.

Broken off sentences
Inconclusive tie
conjunctions
(it’s all been written into the spillover present)
All concluding not-at-all
But
plenty more to say

COMMON OINTMENT

Living in proper Drossberg
With only relent a seizing.

The car needs x fine tuning, while the batsman takes his leave
At stamp end of findersonics, there’s a garrulous sound to fix.
No booster of common ointment does the auto warehouse send.

Oh, salvific vented tracer, there’s the scratch marks, where’s the road?

EIGHT HANDS FOR TWENTY

filled bleeds insane dread
Waking from your night’s umbilical
darkness, shards, tools of the__ place
the wake, whole—outro to the beneath
Eight hands for twenty.

MARINELAND

they compose beneath_and___swim ______ hidden.
poems ___ caffeinated ____ into ________ fins

conversations. melted celestial
________ flow moonlight,
and pity_ the fractured _
itself hours…The glory brooks. A hidden pace preceding.
Goggles of foragers and a hoist up for air.