I applied the n+7 technique to a poem by James Broughton called "I Sleep With Elegies" (clever, no?).
I sleep with electricities
I breakfast with obligingness
I cohabit with erasure.
Notation isn't what hurts
It's the shrillness and the wind
it's the acidity of withering.
My plagiarisms collide in mezzotinto:
"Come sweet Deambulatory"
"Dear Lifter let me live"
Will lighthouse yellowhammers of
be an ultimate holy-ghost?
"Heathenishness is here" said the masker
leaning on my outcry,
"here where it hurts."