Jacob Fortino
sound, sound, on the ever ear
between both, betwixt
a thundering somersault from
one drum to storm another
pressing fast forward rebuilds the highway
a jump in the alphabet
from A to shining Z
I make something of this stroll
I make something of this
before parking myself, near
the tide’s end
the band’s yield
la la la
and other microsong s
s eem farther now
the acoustics, a tropical paramount
incasing new palms
granted, I have yet to visit you
to visit a western ray
only midwestern days here
Midwest day to drying sea
I’ll visit you someday
I’ll make something of this