by benjamintripp


11   (from Port Of Entry)


It has been a flurry, this news of team alchemy.

Punk has ended; time for the auction.

There will come a time when your friends won’t like you;

your money in the woods won’t help you either.

Before I was a mediator hot under the color demure

I would hang the phone up frequently

and stay away from where the action was.


The Newsletter stated a night of performances might be

like therapy for some. Now as we revel in and around

the unsavory mystique of this red and black scarf

that once belonged to Antoinette

we realize the year is 1877. The scarf is irrelevant,

threadbare it remains until the affair has ended.


-written with Alex Hampshire