CHEMICAL GLAM GAMBIT
probably the thins
it’s with the isn’t
a gun
and fun
a when which amounts to, mostly, rock
go rough that rock
into a roll, a bulk
till you’re slowly featureless
composed not of liquid or helium
just a fun water gambling baby
almost methane, without a core
AUXERRE
mountebanks bow, convectively
colored Latinate, and so cheaply
like the severe band taking back long-lived rhythms
and inn-signs, backcloths & associated operas
and then descend, a liturgy of variable thunder
derecho, unfashionable refrains, pornographic windstorm
Tim Keane’s recent poems can be found in the current issues of Evergreen Review, Otoliths, and Streetcake.
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