Two Poems by
Joseph Tate
The Merchants Committee
Bolt The Super Rat Catcher taps his stack.
“Thother one’s baized; ovolo top,
reeded legs.”
“What part of town
you—”
Oakley talls his spine scarcely, just,
& thinks to post a straddle, play the button,
last the blinds.
Apothecary bets.
Livery stable calls.
Hotel does a number & fiddles the quiet.
Night raises.
Seattle
August 24, 2026
The Circular Saw of Faith
I.
was brr-ing while unboxing
the water-stained plethoric the understudy left.
Again even now as the Graff & Hipple does the Tuesday Tilt.
Spiralbound & at sides,
somber at the pleading bone;
looping the rebuked ambulatory,
looking for the can-be-only-one corner
east of the south transept:
[Voiceover.] “Nine years we were -upon-Avon.”
II.
“A corollary to the preceding point is that complex systems run
as broken ”
— Richard I. Cook, MD
1. It was the porch of yourself. Time remains for the marble stele / the travertine base where lies “Whose Name was writ in Water” and his living hand stirs to pipe of truths; for Goates, and Monkeys;
& the shrine for the 14/10.
Two. CMS 297: Being Technology with Humans.
3rd. The late bloom learns: “close, but not cloistered” (Tate 15).
[3]. Attend the symposiums; heed, respond, agree, & Yes, please.
Nth+. Let the axe sing shrill in the woods.
Seattle
August 25, 2026
Joseph Tate is a writer living in Seattle. His work has appeared in Don’t Submit!, #Ranger, Scud, dadakuku, Another Chicago Magazine, ē·rā/tiō, Measure, and other publications.