(a dada cut-up appropriation pastiche)
To voice it seems small:
The tree way near-by
A hot ecstatic locust
Cool through the sound of edge flame
Like some of its the burn on sharpened
Sunbeams from air.
by Leonora Speyer
Its hot voice sizzles from some cool tree
It seems to burn its way through the air
Like a small, pointed flame of sound
Sharpened on the ecstatic edge of sunbeams.
This poem is in the public domain, 1920.
What I’m Reading:
“And even to the Gospel Singer, whose faith in God was not faith at all but an overwhelming superstition, it seemed obvious that a man could not have both silk drawers and God. He could have one or the other but not both.”
— Harry Crews / The Gospel Singer