William Allegrezza
penny for the sold guy
i am not trying to restrict its direction
               (insert yourself wherever desired)
nor am i claiming to know anything.
i would believe in any story that makes it easier to be
without even knowing which way to go.
               (you are more than we have become)
still, the voices are rattling through the cobbled
streets as i look for concrete and steel.
on hearing about a poet
the lines obscure the page.
               no reason to fret.
               we do not condone
the action or hope for
continuation.
               but we do strive
to understand why we
have ended here
vilifying our crafters and
arguing for clarity.
               they are not
indulgent, only trying to
allow us to see what is
latent in language.
consider our direction misdirection
i have replaced the old words
with what can be, can be:
               old with sold. sold with bold—
               a replaying of a substitution game,
               like a switching of shells so that
               we forget which path was chosen
               for us.
and yes, i understand the sorting of layers,
the tides to be parted and assume we’ll
have difficulty in stepping away.
still, our construction is a variation
                              as light in words opening,
                              a hand expanding beyond the view.
                              (we must read beneath the goal
                              for action.)
arrest
our needs are conflicting,
               so i seek shelter knowing
               the violence of your voice
time passes, buildings
crumble
               and i wait as
               what we said would become our high theme
               has become our high theme.
still, the moment is not ours; it’s yours.
               our skills advance. we learn to see in
               the dark. we think through the layers.
and you forget us, get lost in your desires,
your construction.
William Allegrezza edits the e-zine Moria and teaches at Indiana University Northwest. He has previously published many poetry books, including In the Weaver's Valley, Ladders in July, Fragile Replacements, Collective Instant, Aquinas and the Mississippi (with Garin Cycholl), Covering Over, and Densities, Apparitions; two anthologies, The City Visible: Chicago Poetry for the New Century and La Alteración del Silencio: Poesía Norteamericana Reciente; seven chapbooks, including Sonoluminescence (co-written with Simone Muench) and Filament Sense (Ypolita Press); and many poetry reviews, articles, and poems. He founded and curated series A, a reading series in Chicago, from 2006-2010. In addition, he occasionally posts his thoughts at P-Ramblings.
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penny for the sold guy
i am not trying to restrict its direction
               (insert yourself wherever desired)
nor am i claiming to know anything.
i would believe in any story that makes it easier to be
without even knowing which way to go.
               (you are more than we have become)
still, the voices are rattling through the cobbled
streets as i look for concrete and steel.
on hearing about a poet
the lines obscure the page.
               no reason to fret.
               we do not condone
the action or hope for
continuation.
               but we do strive
to understand why we
have ended here
vilifying our crafters and
arguing for clarity.
               they are not
indulgent, only trying to
allow us to see what is
latent in language.
consider our direction misdirection
i have replaced the old words
with what can be, can be:
               old with sold. sold with bold—
               a replaying of a substitution game,
               like a switching of shells so that
               we forget which path was chosen
               for us.
and yes, i understand the sorting of layers,
the tides to be parted and assume we’ll
have difficulty in stepping away.
still, our construction is a variation
                              as light in words opening,
                              a hand expanding beyond the view.
                              (we must read beneath the goal
                              for action.)
arrest
our needs are conflicting,
               so i seek shelter knowing
               the violence of your voice
time passes, buildings
crumble
               and i wait as
               what we said would become our high theme
               has become our high theme.
still, the moment is not ours; it’s yours.
               our skills advance. we learn to see in
               the dark. we think through the layers.
and you forget us, get lost in your desires,
your construction.
William Allegrezza edits the e-zine Moria and teaches at Indiana University Northwest. He has previously published many poetry books, including In the Weaver's Valley, Ladders in July, Fragile Replacements, Collective Instant, Aquinas and the Mississippi (with Garin Cycholl), Covering Over, and Densities, Apparitions; two anthologies, The City Visible: Chicago Poetry for the New Century and La Alteración del Silencio: Poesía Norteamericana Reciente; seven chapbooks, including Sonoluminescence (co-written with Simone Muench) and Filament Sense (Ypolita Press); and many poetry reviews, articles, and poems. He founded and curated series A, a reading series in Chicago, from 2006-2010. In addition, he occasionally posts his thoughts at P-Ramblings.
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