ISSUE 4 · SPRING 2010


 

 

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Copyright © 2010

Noel Sloboda





Richard of Gloucestor's

Machine

NOEL SLOBODA



Imperfect the time—

or perhaps you know


me, not for chitchat,

called while I was absent,


to avoid my untamed

temper, my wicked wit;


flying through my throat

like hungry kites,


they make me unhappy to

create—unhappier still to


hear—this message,

my voice a spur to


prick me to forget

myself; yet should you


wish to address something

to my person, to get


in touch another time,

an electronic cue marks


the waiting

emptiness now—