®

Today's poem is by Ben Doyle

Each Thing Charged

each thing, charged
with ought, bends—

breaks light, which
is ought but

part star. Ought
is, I see

in the thick
book, a vulgar corruption.

Someone heard
someone say

an aught when
they said a

naught. Each thing,
charged with a

naught, bends,
breaks light bad.

I am not
a vulgar corruption.

Let's play oughts
and crosses

in this tree
time is not

a line. You
blocked me with

your crosses. Cat
wins, random fortunate cat.

The tree bleeds
the blood gums,

blubs, smells positively
Jemima.

My head, it
ought to have

a cap like
that, yellow,

threaded, and
all. Each thing

ought to too
the stars are contagious.



Copyright © 2003 Ben Doyle All rights reserved
from jubilat
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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