Posts Tagged ‘Teeth’

Sometimes it’s hard to find myself,
camouflaged and hunting fears by
hiding underneath the lilypads.
Like fear is going to to assassinate the Froggacuda?
But the memory is that if that is what it is:
a feeling lost and sunk in the swamp it was born in;
a beautiful first and last of its kind,
bred from books and desires and pirate gold,
from lost helium balloons and forts under acacia trees.
The Froggacuda is nothing without
one poet of keen eyes and quick hands,
a child catching frogs in the bog alone near dark
with a flashlight and an overactive imagination
full of Dungeons and Dragons books and Lovecraft stories.
Nothing is the Froggacuda without the puppeteer
who makes the teeth snap shut
and the eyes roll,
the ears perk up and the lungs breathe.
But nothing is the puppet-master without
those teeth, eyes, ears, and lungs
beating, breathing
in his self-esteem, his soul.

Spooge

Posted: August 31, 1993 in Poetry
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A VOLCANO EJACULATING BLACK-HOT SULFURIC INK-JISM INTO SQUIGGLY PATTERNS TO FREEZE INTO SINGULAR HIEROGLYPHICS MY PEN LOADED WITH THICK CLEAR CRANIAL FLUID BARELY FILTERED THROUGH THE NASCENT HAIRS ON THE BACK OF MY HAND DERIVING WORDS THOUGHTS IDEAS FROM THE DINOSAUR TEETH-CLICKING OF NEURONS AND RECEPTOR CELLS IN A SQUATTING TOADLIKE SOGGY WAD OF SCHOOL BATHROOM PAPER TOWELS CROUCHING IN THE THRONE AT THE TOP OF MY CROOKED SPINAL COLUMN GOUTING INANITIES INTO THE SPEAKER HORN OF THE 101 FREEWAY RUNNING FROM FOREHEAD TO FINGERS DANCING THE END OF SOME STOLEN WRITING UTENSIL LIKE A SKATE OVER A CLEAN SHEET OF HOCKEY RINK ICE STILL STEAMING FROM THE INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH ZAMBONE MACHINE ROLLING FORESTS FLAT INTO PRODUCTS THAT I CAN WIPE MY NEURAL ASS WITH.

Rats in the Walls

Posted: July 7, 1993 in Poetry
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there are rats in the walls
of every relationship.
they knock about at night
or surprise you scurrying from the trash cans.
the glint of a narrowed eye or a chiselled tooth
or the sounds of skeletons being gnawed,
teeth clicking as they polish to white
the foundations of an unsteady heart.

100 miles and some Cave Art

Posted: December 2, 1992 in Poetry
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A coyote waits
in a shallow cave
with bared teeth,
ready to spring
and chew your throat.

A painting waits
in a shallow cave
with bared teeth,
ready to spring
and chew your throat.

Hangnails Suck

Posted: February 17, 1991 in Poetry
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hangnails suck
damn damn damn;
what can you do?
hangnails suck.
what? put on
a “band-aid”?
no way, dude-man.
hangnails suck.
a “band-aid”
would wrinkle
the skin all white;
hangnails suck.
how about
some ointment:
“Neosporin”?
hangnails suck.
maybe this
time the grease
won’t trap some hair.
hangnails suck.
rip it off
with your teeth
or some tweezers;
hangnails suck.
let the gross
infected
wound gape open.
hangnails suck.
chew and squeeze
your finger
all day chanting:
hangnails suck.

Dinosaurus

Posted: October 18, 1990 in Poetry
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I wish I was a dinosaur
big and tall with a fearsome roar
maybe on leathery wings I’d soar
if only I was a dinosaur.

as long as several city blocks,
buildings crumble as I walk.
I bet I’d never ever be bored
if I was a big old dinosaur.

big horns and teeth and pointy spikes
are better than dolls and toys and bikes
I might even do all my chores
if I could be a dinosaur.

Leper

Posted: March 11, 1987 in Poetry
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Slumped by the wall
Trampled by feet
Too dirty and too obscene
Sign around its neck
In big block letters:
LEPER OUTCAST UNCLEAN
In sixteen different languages.
Missing one wrist and
About half of its face
Splotches of purple and green
It silently speaks
Through rotten teeth
LEPER OUTCAST UNCLEAN
But no one hears him.
It has no feeling
In its arms or legs
As it watches them turn gangrene
With dull eyes it sees
An uncaring world
LEPER OUTCAST UNCLEAN
Alone.
Its entire body putrefies
Right before his face
But his senses still are keen
It’s completely numb
And stone cold dead
LEPER OUTCAST UNCLEAN
The flies feast at noon.

[obviously influenced by Stephen R. Donaldson’s Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever]