Contraband On The Reverb Mic.


ching   ching   ching
     gut bucket bawdy
           bronze breath
                 earshot flux
                      peels back sanity
                          and echo all those
                                pauses without

punctuation can make
     all line breaks run
         according to chimes
              and clanging spectators
                 off stage of culture
                     brushing conscience

if you can
    not read poetry
       aloud then stroll
           at roll around hip
               and shoulder reform
                   the revolution from within

the audience
     humming saliva burns
          verse at the top
              of the rhythm heap
                  retching on reverbish
                      canvas street talkers
                           conditioned to ring
                                a ling dinging


Michael Berton