Mark Scott

"the best damned poet in the business"

Action at a Distance

It occurs. The explanation is incomplete. Speech is grooming at a distance. I am at a distance, come from an ape. I look at the back of my hand, the front. A monkey walks in. I throw him out a dormer window. An earthquake starts. He runs to the verge of the yard and manipulates an orange as a mechanic spins a wheel to see if it’s true.

Had our arms been a foot longer, oratory would have taken longer to become an art. We’d still suffer. This is speech. Are you suffering? Poetry readings go on and on. “Everybody loves the sunshine.” My mother did. And peanut butter. I have “Everybody Loves the Sunshine” in fifteen versions. There’s nothing like the first one by Roy Ayers, but even the fourteenth is. Pills are swallowed. Where the sun never shines, their active ingredients have a symptom-inhibiting action.

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