Twin Cities

Minneapolis
(not Saint
Paul) Istanbul (not

Constantinople.)*
Can't stand
on an apple.

Elliptical
trainer at
a stand still.

Calm
yourself with
infusions of valerian

root
& slow
down the continuos

Saint
Vitus dance
of thoughts torn

from
the archives
of your throat.

You
can't go
back to Constantinople

'cause
now it's
Istanbul. Stuttering is

how
words transform
themselves half way

through.
A sort
of verbal endo

metriosis.
A sort
of psychic song-&-dance.

A
sort of
pas de deux

of
hemispherical twins.
Loosen the stays

of
your cerebellum.
Visceral equi nox

of
shoulders to
hipbones. The midrif


~~~~~~


is
a sort
of a hy-brid

is
a sort
of a land-bridge.


~~~~~~~


Hips
of horse-hair
& woven wire

won't
be worn
this season. They

don't
melt the
way they should.

Think
steel shadows
& edible gold.

The
pleats of
your under clothing

hit
square below
the knees. Over

on
the out
skirts we find

kin
esthesia as
good a euphemism

as
any for
the keel of

lift-&-catch.
The arabesque,
hook-&-eye, on-the-cusp, cloak-&-dress.

Some
sort of
awe inspiring pirouette.

*With a line borrowed from They Might be Giants