(1987)
#AgnosticAntireligion
I hate the callow ones who think t… And have therefore the right to cr… I hate the ones who charge me twen… So I can try to win a ten-buck pr… I hate the ones whom you will irri…
Elephants, Lawrence wrote,* let love bloom slowly “in their vast shy hearts.” But Lawrence dreamed. The beasts, it’s true, were once
The Anguish of Action We frame and then pursue specific… But find results are not what we h… Christ advocated love to all his l… Who then loved some —turned tigers…
I am a horse, a patient, plodding hack harnessed behind a chromed cart — a cart I push when told to go and stop when told to whoa.
My friend, your tender ego giant-s… Makes you condemn the past and yet… Find caveman lust your love now ca… Antiquely unaware how you’ll debas… Your brain is raisin-like with wri…
Pasiphae, like any ancient Greek, Was avid fan of bestiality And lusted for the Cretan bull’s… But he, bull-headed, snubbed her u… For this bovine disliked a human f…
Anthropomorphism Two pigs copulate above The legend “Makin’ Bacon”; A lobster sports a chef’s cap, beckons with big red claw;
Bank Caesar An angry man, conceived and birthed in cars, weaned on dumpsters, reared in shattered rooms
The Star See that star that now appears To glisten in the sky? It took perhaps a million years For it to reach your eye.
Boundaries Tracing writhing streams, circling alpine wastes, tickling out a finger nudged between two behemoths,
In wines my wife prefers the red, While I like white the best. And so we drink rosé instead, Which both of us detest.
Rectilinearity While in a seaside bistro, tired a… I gazed into an icy gin and tried With what appeared to be a tiny sw… To spear an olive slyly gone aside…
Poets are, to most, myopic geeks, Effeminates with scarves and inch-… writing schmaltz with feathered qu… There are, it’s true, purveyors of… of teddy bears and valentines,
Relativity at the foundry Behold the scene at the iron works Where whirls of girls and harried… Surround the boss, a man of vision… Who, visualizing a new division,
A Funeral Cortege Verse now slain by latest dogma, down the cobbled street come mourn… trundling Verse’s coffin forward, charging all to note the corpus,
