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Chuck Stebelton


Poetry Archive
  Chuck Stebelton
Chuck Stebelton works as Literary Program Manager at Woodland Pattern Book Center. He is the author of Circulation Flowers (Tougher
Chuck Stebelton
Disguises
, 2005) and Precious, an Answer Tag chapbook. Newer work appears in recent issues of Antennae, Jubilat, LVNG, Verse, and Chain 12: Facts. He recently collaborated with Cindy Loehr on Revival, "a cathedral of flame with a pre-recorded oration inside."

For more information on his recently released title Circulation Flowers visit http://www.tougherdisguises.com/books.html


from Revival



Chuck Stebelton
Eating seems like a tune to me now. Canned candy

calling each other by our names. Strange friend,

it is light out. Our perfection gets in the way.

Rain is chief among the basket currencies.
A managed float stirs stratagem for refining
a channel into absorption. The cold frailties
and the heartening rivers. Traffic always
succumbs. This train is bound. Slowest
boat to the antipodes. Helium through glue.
The trefoil can testament a crescent moon.

The Seventeenth Century which moved
by consonants. Stares make scare quotes
scarce. An autumnal nose on a Sunday
afternoon. They precede us organically.
Points map a Dane's clarity. Intuition marks
those who wrote about techno, the most
nocturnal of all. Detroit swims into his ken.

Too hot to move. Your genome has appeal.
Along the human armament channel trained.
A stellar sea. Tip the bed to thin the beauty.
A ruminant with thighs which takes
the autological for granted. Dugonidae
blossom. A curriculum in wineskin. Venison
to be born. Raised as a seasonal

in the light of paramecium. Feet on the lotus
seen as the seeds of relativity. We were
there in the maps. One aspires to the shore.
Those who hoped to coax the remainder.
The flood came up and the indexes switched.
High over our pond the frail snap of a string.
Order a breathy request. A tone too deep

for peacocks. Twelve minutes with an insect
in my hand, being your vatic bird of paradise.
Hidden in a narrow vase. Pink is blue rhetoric
for fornication. Rigor plays out in the fields.
Pain in movement or whips these period.
Stuck branches sit and watch poise turn
to fig. We hated to internalize the heights.


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