Slanted Head

Slant all the truth, you violincers.

Suckle me with depthcharge, esculent.

I see you start guiltily up from tweaking

the festival of Carneia with your sweaty fingers

and I think, assemblah blah blah.

You do not have a share in the world

that remains. On my first visit to Algiers,

fifty of us snoring on one mattress,

I experienced a complete change of linen

and you were fitted with high wooden

sandals as if you owed the place, plus a bucket

or two of cold water. Do you know what

a constitution is? Notorious dependence

on a few phrases, plus a knuckleful

of cab fare. Regarding moonlight or droplets,

it is still early enough to judge the effect of reform.