The Manual

An erasure of George Meredith’s “Martin’s Puzzle”

Book, how well I understand
your gladness.

Suffer’d a fool.

Why heart?

Well, the human fist
can be designed with a savouring.

Why taste the books
of turns?

I never solve
crush’d complaining.

Thanks leave
wonderful body hymns.

Fingers only
ask.

Answer this: Should it select eyes
fixed on eye?

So, Book, what must injustice
again mark?

Engines permit tools.

Respect may perhaps bow
but I instead question.

Made together, the sky.

Stop discord properly.

A universe from heaps,
kneeling.
More Poems by John Lee Clark