*such is the potential of a racked
pool table*

Paul Siegell

(if the roar a-my writing desk didn’t have the words
            but listened instead—
carom sling sleuth culprit go—
to open a sluice upon those who stole the trailblazing
            painting of previous vision—
it was a good bring—
whomever invented the nap is the hero a-the panther
            in my pulse—
if all the local, photographable pedestrians I’ve recently
            bumped into with their arms in a sling—
where the last email went—
overused broken hiding heldback and now the defective
aghast engulfed—
the bad loaf of bread for which I hope I’m not headed—
tipsy fingertips spider-bite scratching a pirated jingle:
            the quicker fucker-upper upper, cocaine—
kidding, mom—never sniffed; notta once—oh yes I am!
            but security’s started pushing us out—
caroming us into the spinning English and corner pockets
      of world cacophonies,
                                                and the bitchmove
a-the dealer stealing the blinds—
            let’s go it! we have anuff a-what we need—
bust out the bridge y’got in yer book bag: let’s bank
            the shot off the Cathedral of Learning)