AMP. Always Electric.

Volume 3, No. 1

[lacing] from FAWNING

become
our gainsay—

pipette
action against the
suction
credence wagers, where
we of
shorn horns participated,
beheld—
were be-
holden—
we who had taken seriously pirou-
ettes and
epithets were there to interlace the
hours—
o’clocks to our
whatnots;
taxis into para-
taxis;
apocalypse ruled to
collapse
before a populace—
furies
interlaced
with fawns...

fawning having been only one
way to,
palliating our jollity with
little
inanities; hadn’t fawns always
slid this
bannister, turned away
from that
parade? apricating, our tendency to cod-
ify
lacing now our fawning, transmogrified
by way
of gestural thread—of thong—
a cord—
the adumbration of choreography
grown crisp
and ‘chanting—

throaty
are the
ooids
of our cooing, afloat beneath some grapey
walkway
bridging that plunk!
plunk! brink;
legends
fecund with jollity still lacing, endowing,
drama
over taut brute
stasis; taunting, its
greening; we resurface at riverside highway,
soft-core;
really-truly; with what we later re-
cognized
as the scrolling unscrolling of voice,
risen
into
chorus,
lacing among vociferation, in the half-
millions—

Sunny, as I creep crab-wise into and
away
from this poem, you inch toward me—
pending,
we are one with the rally—this tangle,
patterned...

divergent, the etymologies for
stellar
and lineal; that very
hand cast
over this chart can-
not ful-
ly be told, despite or because of fawning—
that realm
itself
wherein
a word like mnemonic forbids blanched id-
ioms
oozing
neon...

jollity, that illumination—
ions
quickening, as the cheap
Chablis drops, bill-
board gods
pop, and those pheromones we hid
exude.
for lacing are the tiny hands of every memory,
hammered
as the busking rains, revising our faces in the
moonbeams
of our stony narration, our jollity that
single
singlet
we put
collective
leg through—

between the heat of
preening
and drunken chronicle,
there must
be some lace—
some tat—
we’d brought back to the heavily
delft glens,
frothy and dewy with our myths,

that we’d
laced.

Edric Mesmer

A librarian in Buffalo, Edric Mesmer’s poems appear in recent issues of Zarf and The Doris. The collected Fawning is forthcoming from Portable Press at Yo-Yo Labs.