Photo by Amador Loureiro

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Character

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Your eye
    binds you seriatim,
            be you saditty or simple:
                        tears Mistress Aural from your air –
                                    says, Master Oral: Sit there –

Derrière.
            A lingual lip-lock,
                        I strike you
                                    soundless on sight.
            Look me up, look me down
                        – Mongol rock it! –
                                    Or your old right-to-left
                        or left-to-right…
Can’t help it! Can you?
            that reflex follow –
                        Call it R-E-S-P-E-C-T, but
                                    no need to spell it out for me.
I’m your religion, Old School, uh-huh!
            (the part you read, if not believe.)
                        Call me the sin-original
                                    Saccadic cultist – Umm!
                        um-um!… my rhetor’s sweet smoke!
            Br-ea––––the! a word of me, you can’t do otherwise –
                        so to speak ; )
Sans-serif or stroked, these curves
            span the scope of your thought…
                        your vision…
            I’m a Grapheme-ical Phenom, that’s me!
You doubt I’m your Alpha
            & all-that to the Omega?
                        In stone, for all time, or on paper –
                                    Built to last and fit to print:
                                               No pas’ been passed I can’t reframe –
                                    No future’s writ
                                               that I don’t name…

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