Cameron Lovejoy

t(r)ypophobia

typography performs         in the amphitheater at dusk

the moon a compact

disk on repeat, repeat

customers of customary margins

open air

open sky of pink cirrus moving slantwise

someone takes a photograph

someone turns a phonograph

someone makes a homophone

of the setting sun

the amphitheater is a yawning mouth, featuring

the apertures of letters,

the openings of the c or the s signifying space or

the “a” but not the a

in italics

or the letter O—at all

so much information moves through the opening

of an eye

the brain like a sponge

with all its little holes, trypophobia’s

typo phlegm, bubbles

in a cup of coffee

Oooooooooo

    Ooooooooooo

oooooooooo        the overture

begins, filling

the wind with swords

the audience

gawks, a head of lotus seeds