Author: [[Nick Roberts]] --- Hollow, hollow, brush here come the reliquary police here come the men in their bonnets here come the hawks singing dixie here come the tailspinners, the weavers of velvet enfrondants here come Benedictines, Franciscans, Carmellites, Poor Clares, Lutherans, Buddhists, escapologists, Holy Rollers here come a dozen good ways to commit suicide here come the brash and the shy together here come men with tetanus rust here come confidence men with the news up their sleeves, farting and hacking like cancer here comes the breath that from my son reeks here come those with mosquito bites between both breasts, forming a sacred skinline with the nipples here come the mosquitoes themselves, proud and demoniac here come several good tables, borne on the backs of several good midwesterners here comes a tow of sugar ground from the head of Lot’s wife here come Lot’s daughters, swollen and omnipregnant by Lot here come permits and licenses and other accoutrements of being constantly stapled punched stamped and consulted here come six poets you know, three you like and three you don’t, tethered to each other and forced to read each other’s work forever here come banners behind them with the poets’ names here come muttonous gluttonous backpackers and eaters of sin, cameras out and hairtrigger fingers on zoom here comes the dead captain, his boots swollen around his ankles like a little yellow bird here comes the yellow bird, mindless in its tower Pavlova, fabulous aviatrix of the west steps over the newel with her left foot and lands footfirst in the ore coming over the newel like a flurry of hard sponges two huge drafthorses with their heads out way down south to Fort Caroline way out on the landing, her hairs pass glasses in no colony Pavlova, your famous ancestress doesn’t eat the scallops left for her, but turns them over and looks in the scallop butts And she leaves behind her plate all its flensing and fletching reflected in her hands and eyes and toes