Colophon I

I often talk to myself aloud I dream

And if you sometimes hear some improprieties 

in these tête-à-têtes

don’t go hanging the Liar’s Stone around my neck

don’t make me parade about town as penance

don’t force some fetid ordeal poison between my lips

don’t demand they tie me up and impale me

Chalk up these youthful pretexts

to the season

the moon or the harmattan

the habit of reading without a candle

to spiral thinking

to call-and-no-response