Let me see.
"Yoo-hoo."
"Sun lights up a pelt of dust on the receiver.
Being unexpected, this is a kind of call,
cross names out and things are all
made up of contrary percussive adjectival tugs.
I remember someone wrestled an angel, a signal.
The presence chronic revision, which a poem re-enacts.
The open vowel peekaboo pelvis through which
you came into this world sits on the shelf in a mausoleum now,
world on either side of it."