The To Sound

THERE APPEARS TO BE DIAGNOSTIC FRICTION IN YOUR AMBLYOPIA, YOUR
PATCHED OFF FLIGHT.

The corrected version begins: if a seed powders to husk in the bowel
of...not the x-rays came back blank, the coral hull is groaning...

Follow the pointer with all your moths closed.

Crack this grounded star like so: as a symbol of my capitalized wing
[better one?] as a dented speech of teeth [better two?]

Your vowels have been spreading since I notarizd the "ancient am"
under your arm, and your tilted diction suggests a torch of arid
bladder syndrome. The crunching in of hosts.

Jean-Michel Basquiat's "Anybody Speaking Words" (1982, acrylic and oil
painstick on canvas, 96 by 61.5 inches) is perhaps the best glottal
stop for your repealed gloss, your nitrogen highness. As I'm sure
this piece of clay demonstrates, the centrifugal swere in your third
opera is almost entirely crossed, an impossibly intoned operation.

i assuage you, this aphasia will swoon.

from The To Sound by Eric Baus