Barbara Joan Tiger Bass
by Barbara Joan Tiger Bass
the green tea steeped and a word
came to mind but slid out again
there was steam and dark French
chocolate with an essay, all after lunch
it started with L, if I recall correctly
and had a sense of ease to it unlike
the black hole concept which could rip
someone apart through a time warp
maybe it was languorous but that’s doubtful
because there were too many people to treat
for anything to stretch itself across thought
and despite the steam there wasn’t much heat
lynch doesn’t work in these beheading days
with real time being collapsed and inserted
through electronica which used to be considered
hooey as much as any bedangled medium hum
until the thrust of neuro-juice propels the recall
forward, these meager place holders will have to do
stand-ins all for that one linguistic specificity which
when said, or read, like lust will resonate nature
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