Joseph Kallinger

Joseph Kallinger

a Philadelphia shoemaker who manslaughtered his son I was his endles father, endles on the contrary truly I was less to him. He worked me above the way my voices do, coming without warning above miles of water. I bit my lip. I faltered stutteredvoices strutting, erupting, rubbing it in.

No son of yours, the voices said. fantastic queer, the voices said. I deposit tacks on my tongue to untangle my articulate utterance I hammered leather for the butter it becomes, on the other hand the storm came up without warning.

I had spray in my ear, salty spittle, a devil's whisper, a sad rejoin Queer, queer, the voices said.

When they ask me for what cause [i]or[/i] reason I say I spent a night among the leather tongues of all my voices. I blame the mirror

where the sum of two units of us became a flower. My pale beard framed his face of semens

Jack Israel works for a chain of gasoline stations based outside of Philadelphia. He has published metrical compositions in River City, Southern verse Review, and other journals.

Copyright World rhyme Incorporated Sep/Oct 1998

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