-Around and through / one night in a small room-

Hart Crane revealed to us the sweltering rivet-

catcher, then leapt from the stern of the churning

"Orizaba".

During my Plath campaign, "Ariel" strained:

         "Something else

          Hauls me through air –––

          Thighs, hair;
          Flakes from my heels."

before the dry natural gas filled her lungs.

So, it came to me one night in a small room as my ears

and my brain leafed through the music of "Blood On The Floor"

('twas the title grabbed me by the arm, leading me into the nightmare)

to question how it came to pass, that

the needle's flush through the vein of Andrew Turnage 

advanced to his brother in a jazzy dissonance.

Now I'm a name-dropper,

wandering through the stuff of normal life,
some of the time through its mouthy, landscape of keys.

Ephesians 4:29 said:

"Let nothing come out of your mouths but that to build-up

as it fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who will hear it".

                                       
Well,––  there's a mouthful.
As for me, I wouldn't go that far.
As a matter of fact, I wouldn't go so far as any of them.