Monday, November 12, 2012
Mike Turner sent me this.  I'm not sure about all of it, but the excellent first stanza and certain other phrases, eg.,  "generalized ache" & "the teeth of singing" feel about right.

I Am the Steely Dan of Poetry 
Evonne Acevedo
Consider soul: etched in the deft
contours of jazz, palpable with static, in black jungle
swinging with lichens and tongues; the feverish nap
latitudinal with ghosts. And in the degrees between or above, absolute space, squirming color, a
Southern dawn involving syncopation and rapture.

To own soul, consider it lacking,
in the act of lack; or acting god, of God.
Cite the sad practitioner, the admitted journeyman
leaning on the organ, counting to four.
Dull youth and their neo-rapture, not ascending.
Girls with dead eyes
chewing and chewing, legs wide apart.

The executors of soul have several fingers and generalized ache –
one articulates the wound’s perimeter;
one picks the flesh to bits.
This former, rattling with masonry,
exemplifies, doubts,
illustrates and kneels,
crawls in his tracks; and thus flagellated into excellence
wipes the table, arranges the fruit.

This is the teeth of singing,
the Jesus of holidays.

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