Saturday, June 12, 2010

7: Zach Wells

What can you do with a banjo
when you’re lazy and the moon is full?

I’m wretched and lying
like an old poem,


where my eyes, ears, mouth, nose
should be.


[Seemed to me to be a block of wood awaiting the adz, Gary. I'm allergic to words like "memory," "sweet," "regret" and "words," so off with their flowery heads. It now feels like a fragment in search of a sequence, I think. Cheers, and thanks for including me in this, Z]

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