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Mumbling in a Hole: a Chapbook by John M. Bennett
(September - October 2005)


I lake

I was plunging you were napping I was
drying you were floating I was heaping
you were scowling I was bleating you
were nopeing I was shingling you were climbing

crust why heaving

lung haul your limpid door blood
your fulsome shade rabbit your
steeply bile stammer your nodded
log rinsing your cutting leg rattle

dust why streaming

so you aiming for the fluid half the
neck strummer lamp I crusted up
the business we were polished like
an engine thinking in the lake