poetry comes as the shadow of a cloud
across my paper, staining the white,
and I only remember how much I was
in love with you for that moment.
Archive for October, 1991
0
Imitation of The Hand
holding endless golden grains of sand
at arm’s length – my hand
sifts thoughtful each piece’s worth
feeling the elemental drums of the earth.
Imitation of The Island
alone on an island,
I build my own church
to God
and it was nothing
because I’d rather have died.
The lazy brown dog
stayed home and
watched the Chargers
lose 17-14.
the crows have
come to peck out
our eyes, peck
out our eyes,
peck out our eyes.
the crows
have come to
peck out our eyes
so that we may be enlightened.
decomposing, I lay in sleep,
wrapt in the silk of a thousand worms,
mixing with the rain
and the earth and the air,
melting like ice cream
on the sunny sidewalk.
frogs at the pond
make finger-shadows
and see them dance
on the surface of the water
during lightning.
what am I?
snail tracked and painted myrmidon,
striped with the best of the barber poles,
suckled as a final Lemonhead.
death comes as a white hat.
I am Amoebaman,
extending, distending
the mighty pseudopod.
phagocytosis: I eat,
scavenging across the floor
for succulent young
women’s legs,
dragging them under
my big checkered
protoplasm
and giving them cooties.
stuck in the eye
with Tanizaki’s
stolen needle.
blind, I admired
the mirror
from memory.
a Buddha
held his halo
over his belly,
pressed it in,
and smiled.
I was struck
in the eye
by the sound
of a violin,
drawn sinew,
smoking resin,
sliding down,
arpeggiated
from my CD.
Froggacuda's Weblog 