Lit-Mag #46 – Madrigalesque

The wrong Tom Jenks

I looked him up on the Internet but it’s the wrong Tom Jenks
histories banged together,  homepages for high jinks
it repeats as it permutes, but it also rejigs the past
welcome to the mix and match of discombobulated planes
to cross is not only to traverse,  to cross means also to conjoin
organisms tear apart the niches they construct
earthworms are proto alchemists, they switch the soil to gold
a jumble, a mosaic, a mix-up, a montage
conversations build a cartography that maps an alien field of art
nations bounce back from combat into an adaptive ache
agendas pulse erratically, expectation swings its chronic beat
she amputates accusations, screws on prosthetic myths
he felt attracted by her one day and repulsed by her the next
variants are deviations that play bad tricks on genes
revamping your story is unwise but it doesn’t mean certain guilt
a treatise resolves as tealeaves, fragments disarm her fists

Also see: The Blue Bus