Been reworking Dumuzi once more. Gone’s the attempt at polyrhythmic syncopation. Found’s the root metonym, self-excavation, and its proper volume, unloud.
Gone the Inanna junk mail comic book, off to be its own freestanding beastie.
Drawn in, 15 or so poems from a project I’d abandoned. They turn out to have their heart in the same places.
The result’s less rampant formally, simpler structurally. Maybe also rounder emotionally and more richly textured vocally. It’s for other readers to say.
Here, pour t’amuse, “poor Tammuz,” a bit of they is, and it are.