Four Poems by John M. Bennett

nost

uh ,neck it’s  .late in

crowding o half o loot

.the pooled throat and

,half hills ,yr streaming

thigh remembered ham

ster house embolism and

crackers ,just uh wh

eezy swallow  )o the

hairball !(  rain curd

les in the basement where

the tress archive brightly

moulders and yr long leg

histoire’s curling on

the walls

La mort le fait fremir, pallir;

Le nez courber...

- François Villon

arcadas

occulate  .it his

toria del fermento

.forma  .lápiz cacósmico

my chin cheese’s rumor

atragantado ,stink of’s

highest water  I

saw it off ,eggs and

gristle ,kinda like an

eye with’s ball point

.)swaddled in the temp

tress dust yr(  glottis

sandwich ,fog and

plastic bags

UN BRAS INCONNU

- Vicente Huidobro

                        pants

what wrap rustling in yr

leg a nap perhaps a

lens focused ants beneath

the knee just raise yr

g land and sp ray  .w

allets and w histles ,dogs

frying in the hall where

yr drippy thigh BAN

GS IN THE CLOS

ET mot hs c luster in

the r oof e ating w hat ,t

he sca t  t  ere d  e g  g   s

...la chambre c’est plein de fumée...

- Benjamin Péret

ratón

m urk fork ,seven one

plaster scra wl the

shudtered back itching

like a moth my nom

brûlé un callejón de

piernas muertas and

yr shimmering spoon  )the

river gargles behind yr

shed(  s horts cr awling

in the mud lo que la

mur alla no me dijo

melting into its hole

...ici la boue...

- Charles Baudelaire

________________________

John M. Bennett has published over 400 books and chapbooks of poetry and other materials. He has appeared in AlteredScale.com issue 2 & 3 and will appear in issue 4.

www.johnmbennett.net