Prosequential

I mostly read things front-to-back.
That’s my angle of attack:
Begin at the beginning, then
Plow through the middle to the end.
It works for novels, verse, and drama
(Sorry for the Oxford comma
If you’re one whom it offends);
For true-life tales it often lends
Essential context: Predicate
Cannot confirm what’s not said yet.
That habit, though, gets clumsy when you
Practice it on, say, a menu
Or encyclopedia —
Why waste time with Ad-Ba
When what you’re looking up is Cow?
That’s Vol. IV, just go there now!
And while you’re ruminating on
The ruminants who chew your lawn
And transform grass to low-fat dairy,
I’ll be stuck inside an aerie
On a cliff or mountaintop,
Munching mice from mama’s crop
And cursing Evelyn (Ms. Wood)
For leading me to think I could
Read fast enough — with proper training —
I need never risk explaining
That I must have skipped that part,
Read beans and then cut straight to fart
While skipping both in– and digestion.
Worth it? That’s an open question.
Certainly, there’s much I’ve read
Because it simply fell ahead
Of that which first had lured me in,
Yet, I’ll admit, to my chagrin,
That I’ve not bought some magazines
When I sought flatulence, not beans,
And didn’t deem the effort worth it,
Front-to-backwise, to unearth it.
I’m compulsive, that I’ve learned;
At least, though, all my farts are earned.

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Burn Or Move

The sun comes always
Through gaps in curtains
Glass traffic flashes
Miracle tunnels through myriad dozens of shuddering leaves
Through smoke and haze and cloud and discontent
To find and blind your eye
And make you choose