Wayne Koestenbaum

How to Bend

Patio furniture, plastic
and filthy, assists

pedagogy’s colonoscopy
always in the airport,

according to the sluggish melodrama
Triumvirate Purloins Lemonade.


Elevator shaft’s blue rain
bends the cover

of the how-to manual.
How to what?


“I’m a kid, too,” I want
to shout, in complicitous foreboding,

backstage on a small lunar shallop.
And we will consider it a pleasant experience. .

© 2005 Electronic Poetry Review