These skid poems seem very encodedly personal to me. I like them. And I like how knowing a little bit about you gives me moments of decryption. How do you hear the prosody? Fast or slow? Druggy? And if so which drug?

I guess they are "encrypted," though my sense is that when they are most candid they are also simply not telling the truth. The prosody shifts for each poem, but mostly I'm falling back on some standard syncopation a la Raworth or Creeley, mostly the former. Had I more time with each I'd try something more unusual, with interior formal constraints. Even the most LangPo ones seem to have more to do with a poet like Trakl (as ambiguous yet "foreboding" landscapes) and, say, Auden (in their cheeky, darkish approaches to fairly humanistic concerns), though as usual there's a look to Pound's earlier, sparer lyrics ("Dance Figure," etc.). Well, I wouldn't take them too seriously, just five-finger exercises; the original idea was to try to write like John Wieners! I hope to revise the better ones at a later date. Thanks for reading.