I want to say Rae Armantrout springs a cavalcade of huggable schwas on me, but rumpled or purple or bubbly would describe them, too. As long as they’re duple bumpy words.
Joints grind like
shot brakes.
Food ignites
in our stomachs.
But we’re still muffin-bunnies,
muddle-buckets,
cuddle-chunks.
(From “Apocrypha,” Poetry, June 2026)
Armantrout’s boney, yet highly legible, minimalism does me that rare favor poetry can bestow on a reader, to wit, elicit laughter. Twenty-six syllables cresting in a persnickety streak of thud-nuts provide a rambunctious chuckle-ride. The wry-serious vocables smack of kid talk with a whiff of nursery rhyme and playground marketing. (“Muffin-Bunnies” are well positioned for the sugary snack rack at a 7-Eleven checkout.)
Also, who is one who has driven with frayed brake pads, and has complaining joints, that doesn’t seize immediately on the “grinding” simile? A brusque epithet plucked from the vernacular, “shot,” suits it to a tee.
(c) 2026 JMN — EthicalDative. All rights reserved
EthicalDative 
Bums scrunches like
Elbow cranks.
Poetry churns
In our noddles.
And we’re still muddle wumps
Diddly do-dahs
Squishy lunks.
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You’ve gone to the well! 🙂
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I know those joints well. (K)
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🙂 !
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Delightful! “Twenty-six syllables cresting in a persnickety streak of thud-nuts provide a rambunctious chuckle-ride.” I love it. Difficult to match you and Rae, Jim!
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Lovely to hear! It’s good to share in your delight, Sue.
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