I dissected a cow's eye
Today.

I cut the muscle from the pale ball
And cut that alabaster sphere
In half.

The cornea was as hard as a marble
And perfectly round
When I lifted it from

The ****** pale moon
That stared up at my scalpel.

It was a returning.

After I make my way back
To old 1947 New York skyscraper city
In a time machine jalopy
The same color as a baby blue sky
With leather seats and chrome wheels
I would like to stop
In an old burger restaurant
Stinking of grilled meat and
Marlboro smoke and the stench
Of permed hair
To order a burger and salted fries
And I would like to stop just once
And stare out the wide window
Into a busy New York street
At the beautiful women
And the beautiful men
While I sip my coca cola
Out of a chilled glass bottle
And you **** on a gorgeous red
Cherry straight from the top of your
Cold vanilla milkshake

When they come for me
I'll be sitting in my desk
With a gun in my hand
Wearing a bulletproof vest

I will never be enough of a man
To dowse my saffron robes
In cold gasoline and set it aflame
In buddhistic conviction--
My dreams would scamper
From my burning head to find another,
My flesh would crack and burn
Like old parchment
In rough palms.

I will never be enough of man
To eat buckshot out of
A hollow cold steely gun
My mouth wrapped around the
Reaffirming thickness--
My eyes would dart and then close
My ears would ring and then collapse
Like an old building
Consumed in flames.

I will never be enough of a man
To wrap a rope round my neck
And stare blankly ahead
To seize the day
From God's hands--
My face would bulge
My limbs would twitch
Like a dying rodent
In the throes of cancer.

I will always be enough of a man
To kiss your lips
With my own and feel
Your curves in my hands
And look at the sun--
My trembling hands falter
My eyes can't see to feel for you
Like a blind pianist
Playing the blues.

The headdress danced in the sun
On the Indian's hollow
And eyeless skull.

It was framed in feathers
Brightly-colored serpents in the
Salty air flames licking at
Dancing and ***** bare feet.

Dark-skinned, tall, high cheekbones
And solemn eyes full of
Wisdom--he surveys the
Badlands, Moses's rigid face
Blank and silent in a
Heatwave desert.

Beyond the teepees and the
Black bonfire smoke and
The buffalo rhythm, the plateau has
Risen, bleached bones
Litter the plains as a constant
Reminder.

God's gray thumb
Was as heavy as a fistful
Of black steel
On the day he pressed it
Into the earth
And created a crater
And filled it with water.

He looked down at His creation
Then looked back up
At the Firmament and saw
A resemblance in the way
They both reflected that kind
Matronly face, bearded, wrinkled
Full of hope.

Then His hands were gray
On the day He blurred
The lines; the trees in
The garden stood solemn
And man and his wife
Looked on them
And got curious.