Eddie Watkins

Two Eights

1. Ivory Taboo

Ivory taboo. I follow
the grip provokes an experiment:
a blind mother. Flies
into an equation.
Jungle and leather.
That then it weaves, finally, tender
severities above my clam.
Honey doles out a retractable bud.

2. Idyll

A few moles try around the weather
crossroads after shine by shine
pool by the tonnage of green
in guarantee to mint coils
to immanent pad for edification
buoyed by percolator in geranium
weakly we return to clam sundry zero
as fat wobbly noon covers us

e-mail the poet at ewatkins@wistar.upenn.edu
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