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
two (dimensional) birds
in meditation the breadth of holes in bread
a need a camel an L the space or dimension missing in the L is only two
suppose typography can change this but this
L a wingless dove is less a flightless thing
more a lessened less-is-more lesson like the shallow breather’s still sustained just not as needy
not to knead as in the batter glue but kneed
as in the legs of time
the L for lung or love
whatever
is between the two
Cameron Lovejoy is a self-taught poet, writer, and fine printer based in New Orleans. He co-edits Tilted House, a small press focussed on intimately made, handbound books. His work has appeared in Denver Quarterly, Columbia Review, DIAGRAM, and more.
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