now going for the open-throated voiceless breath
gruntless air unimpeded by the song of complaint
revolt resistance alarm remark must only be shaped
by the upper locks and low-girding pistons
this is how to fan a flame not pinch it out
the breath not the beat must create the rhythm
not where any convention spells death as in poetry
when breathing is beaten and choked to pulpy bits
air flows best in the channels invisible of reference
no tune of childhood jack in box will abduct
my forward-aiming whisper-only bellows
or the smoke on my billowing clear tendrils
our gut flora soaring for their measly lives
or this desultory yet shameless carbon-dioxide
no raga no jig nor carol can jam the engine
non-metaphoric breath itself must come first
before the florid code or plea for recognition
the slide and squeal of wet tendons in contact
could be no more than nothing without air
which as breath shall be my fulcrum and lever
by Peg