Red Canyon Petroglyph
Merely Bewitched
Here in the year of the tiger
no one tells me I look svelte
few can even spell svelte
or tell it from the lookalike smell of felt
or better yet the smell of leather
in a boot city
bushy mustaches frothing up the place
all shoppers off rhythm
and the ghosts whispering taboo
Here halfway through the year of the tiger
love takes a gulp
snags on a barb of chicken wire
citizens of the frenzy
daymoon incapable of concentrating
a new childhood rife with fits of legato
cat’s got a tongue
a commitment to competence
and angels lining up to oxtercog their charges
_____________
Brian Builta
Review by Massimo Fantuzzi
All our senses stand on display; all our faculties are brought into play in this poem. The words have a smell, their rhythms a colour, a physicality, each with a specific mass. The tiger has taken possession of its time; embodied, its renewed, incarnated love tastes the air and breaks barriers like breaking free from exile.