Winter 2002
	Taj Jackson
	Tweedledum
	Of motion, of foot fault, I am roustabout, to rove, gandy dancer on a railroad crew
	shuffle-stepping past the bootblack in the day's heat, to pass time,
	or, underfoot, the one galoot in a covey of skylarks
	with a goose, a startle in my canticle, Nunch Dimittis - nutritive
	mileage. I am a scalawag, a toll paid by merchants
	and, backtracking, and my hat my home (a rogue's capstone), I had as lief gad,
	glee, these rake-like stints, this hocking sacks of borax, spring-heeled, my salts to craft
	enamel, glass, fake rose opals, a cash archway, a made toehold.