Pete Spence
Collected Poems September 9th a Sunday.
1. 9:27. a.m.
it's 9:27. a.m. our lounge room
standard time    why are my hands
shaking?    why are the french doors shaking?
that's not a breeze bouncing
like a wrecking ball off
the west wall!    a storm outside
and Weill's "Berliner Symphonie"
inside!    Jubelnd    if that
is possible? the coffee
is brewed
2. Gouttes de Pluie.
3. Kind of Blue.
Melting note
into air
laid flat
emerges again
sharp
Dabs blue
as a cloud's
vellum sound
in shape and
space
4. Custer's last poem to Gertrude Stein.
arrows   arrows   arrows
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Collected Poems September 9th a Sunday.
1. 9:27. a.m.
it's 9:27. a.m. our lounge room
standard time    why are my hands
shaking?    why are the french doors shaking?
that's not a breeze bouncing
like a wrecking ball off
the west wall!    a storm outside
and Weill's "Berliner Symphonie"
inside!    Jubelnd    if that
is possible? the coffee
is brewed
2. Gouttes de Pluie.
Apollinaire tapping on the french doors p gouttes de p p p l p l l p l u l u u l u i u i i u i e i e e i e e e
3. Kind of Blue.
Melting note
into air
laid flat
emerges again
sharp
Dabs blue
as a cloud's
vellum sound
in shape and
space
4. Custer's last poem to Gertrude Stein.
arrows   arrows   arrows
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