From “The Vyvanse Triolets”, and: From “The Vyvanse Triolets”

175 JOSEPH WOOD FROM “THE VYVANSE TRIOLETS” iii. Tics. Tourette’s. Imploded arteries. Heart valve could erode. Mostly, a five second silence, a swarm of sand blown inside the skull. Sniper mime: senses explode: tick of the tourists’ arteries, the boardwalk wood could not parade its whirls more. Coked or killed, one loud boom, the sea invades. The white light above—land or lyre, tick or tourist, a vault is exploding—and cold, five senses silent. Mostly swimming, the eroded sand. 176 JOSEPH WOOD FROM “THE VYVANSE TRIOLETS” xlviii. The sand stays silent. Eroded or shoveled, heated or frosted—the tourists arrive. These pyramids flaunt blueprint and whip, brick and brick, feats of erosion. The shovel never stays. The sand heats and shifts. Misperceived, the bleached dunes seat nothing. We carry the water, lower a camel’s lip. Silence never stays. We shovel, we ride. The heat arrives. The tourists froth. O these pyramids. ...