Zach Vesper

Turn Back Toward The Factory

thanks be to the cruel gut
the hollow leg        which hides
a greater food         than a man will know
the open gurgle of his heartclot

I come from a long line of
factory railers         I ate my share
of toothsoot sayers
compacted in my black gum

they call out whinning
from the depths    seventy some years
of gastroenteritic song
the learnéd men sing whomsoever

spasm in us               fall to letters in us