A face looks so carnivorous
From the nostrils down:
An open, ravenous trap,
Half full or half empty
Gleaming with ivory shears
And threatened sharpness
Of incisors clicking.

I fear it's raging hungers, this face;
It looks ghastly unkind
With tearing, strong molars,
An impertinent softness of tongue lurking
Concealing the violence till the last instant
While delicately testing
The perfect temperature of warm blood.

Who says humans
Don't eat their young;
Things sometimes happen in the dark,
Late of night, things you'd never catch in daylight-
Why do some never have children at all;
Perhaps they became too fond of newborn flesh,
Delicate as the palest veal-calf of the restaurant.

And it only looks human
When you add in some eyes.

Hurry scurry, wrinkle your nose,
Harem scarem, wiggle your toes;
For each thing's connected to every other-
The Earth is everyone's old grandmother.

Bubble bubble, stir in some trouble,
Soon the *** is bound to be double;
And I've a twin who lives in the mirror-
She rushes to meet me when I come near.

Oh cellar-door;
Such raised beauty rarely spoken;
You are the praise
That holds our gaze.

Oh cellar-door,
You will always be there;
When all the other
Word towers get razed.

I see that brick wall you’ve pointed me toward again,
A thousand times now, my brother;
Both with words and without,
In concealing codes and sly gestures.
I will just pretend to be walking there now,
And will circle that wall for a thousand years;
Even though my body fall down, my spirit
Will continue on in circles;
Even though my spirit finally wear itself through,
Like worn out house shoes,
My energy will continue to spiral, magnetized with momentum.

In my constant walking, my abiding presence
Will eventually become a bounding curse
Upon you and all your petty generalizations,
And I will ambulate the circumference of your limited minds;
Your little crime-seeking, self-satisfying standards.
My round bastions will deflect every intended wound of yours,
In dizziness you will behold my travelling orbits
And you will say that the I-that-is; that-something; that-somewhere
Has finally gone completely over the edge
Of sanity- but viewed from the other side,
I will still be standing strong and upright: unmoving even.

It’s not which side you’re on; it’s which can endure,
And your time will someday have to polish it’s bloodied hands
On my petrified reflection,
And your farcical mystery religions will crack and fall over,
Under the propellant power of self-doom.

I’m going to start walking now.

My poetry's really meant as decoration
For the days of life that we get rationed;
My lines for scrapbooks, wrapped around vases;
Words embroidered utilitarian places.

My words antimacassars for things nearby;
Some dangling sentences passing by,
Upon the latest quilt or jewelry box;
Or purse, or duffle, or coffee mug.

Please use my poems as flourishes and frills,
To substitute for things sans time to feel;
Shabby chic poetry, for every need:
Then there's always something to read.

Atoms skitter to the center
In the square dance of all matter;
Quarks should rotate once around,
Keeping us on earth firm-bound.

Swing your partner far and wide,
Perihelion's kept astride,
And the strings of matter
String along the boson's heart.

Now come together; smatter, scatter;
Atom-smashers do not matter,
For this dance of matter
Truly is a dance of higher art,

Matter curtsys; and there's gravity
Fills in each slight curving cavity-
From above, you'll notice first
It all starts from just one burst-

So the particles keep on dancing,
Midnight comes, and still they're prancing;
Whirling, somersaulting like they never
Dared to dance before;

Keep on watching, as the clocks hands
Travel once more past the grandstand;
We're transfixed since matter never
Let us ever see this door.

We're the eyes and ears that dare
To watch this tantric ballet, bared;
Entanglement seduces; there's no other place to be-
Bow to your partner in this deadly quantum duel of rivalry.

Does a sunken Galleon live in time;
Does a once drowned book
Still sing in rhyme?
Do mermaid's fingers
Now turn the page;
Or Captain remember
Sea's foaming rage?

Does love unnoticed
Beget love forgot;
Does it freeze in December,
And thawing, rot;
If in your mind, there could no doubt,
Does the ink of Time
Ever run out?