By Joseph J. Capista

Featured Art by Reagan Settle

Peanuts work for earplugs.
Motor oil’s dandy warpaint.
Hammer yonder socket screw.
Let, for birdsong, boulevard
suffice, its springtime
putsch of blathered whoosh.
Try disorganized religion.
Whereas one yellow, freshly
sharpened pencil expedites
the trach, deep blue in place
of black seldom works.
Socks in place of sanitary
tissue is a trick I learned
in proximity to a mosh pit.
For accolade try: While
the jury commends your
recent submission to our
sculpture exposition,
concerns persist regarding
the capacity of guano,
liverwurst, and gypsum
to withstand the realities
of summertime Chicago.
My mother pierced her ears
with a sharp object and ice,
that trick from way back in
the Pleistocene Epoch when
our ancestors substituted bona
fide desire for Neanderthals
which must have been a hoot.
For Perikles, try sprinkles.
For mope, try poem.
For readjust, just read.
For that hornet nest you’ve
tried all summer to locate
and found now in, yikes,
your front maple whose
leaves turned a very specific
color and then with little
fanfare fell immediately
to the gutter try your heart.
For love, try anything.

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Joseph J. Capista is the author of Intrusive Beauty (Ohio University Press, 2019). His poems have appeared in Agni, Black Warrior Review, The Hudson Review, Ploughshares, and Poetry Daily. He teaches at Towson University and lives with his family in Baltimore.