Look at that elephant
he's an ant in disguise.
Look how he strains to lift that small branch. He can't,
the idiot.
This is his eleventh try.
you can tell by the sweat that has soaked into the dry wood.
And the straining trunk
it looks like a butterfly's antenna
it's so small!
See! It's cracking apart
like the skull of a laughing hyena
that I once stepped on
it was so satisfying.
The vending machine of hope
drops nothing for a kick
Don't break the glass
you'll shatter the friend
that innocent girl
She's worth twisting your spine
to retrieve the mountain's dew.
How many legs has a horse?
The poet doesn't know.
How many sorrows has a centipede?
9 thousand, 5 hundred, 62 point 8.
He can't stop counting.
A bird is a difficult thing to start
the feathers stick to the sun like melting shoes
The skulls hover o'er my tentacles like porcelain peeps and Easter Tylenol.
A poet can't pay his bills.
