thoreau

i lay down in a field

where ant hills abounded

removed my pants

to flaunt my naked backside

i hardened as i saw the red devils advancing

combing through the follicles

intoxicated with the desire for elixir

consuming as they penetrated the cavity.

all too soon

milk-liquid shot from me

and slithered into the sweet wet grasses

like snakes over sand dunes

while thunders of a coming storm

threatened to drench

the thrill and bliss of

my commune with nature.

i'll not be fooled again

when i was a child
i thought the moon was the sun turned off
but when i saw the moon floating on the water
and the sun drowning in the sea
i knew i was fooled.
i've tried to float and nearly drowned
so perhaps i'm neither like the sun nor the moon
more like the stars
and, as an adult, i know they wink when i blink
and blink when i wink
and there they go
not because it's dark
but because it's light
up all night, i'll not be fooled again

the whole chicken

i know
that when i stuff myself
when my insides
mash up my body
and jam up my ribs
i feel as i do too often
a head trapped within a skull
but here i go again
and eat the whole chicken

rita

inside my head is

prairie dust and spiders

no wonder rita

has breasts as big as boulder colorado

and spreads her legs before me

like a mountain valley

with lands to be burrowed

and encloses her furrows gripping the plow

to capture every last glacial drop

no wonder rita

controls my mind

and clears the cobwebs

fucking it to fertility

not me

who'd have thought
that among winters' captives
a tiny spark of everything
would flower in passion
though rankled and wrangled and reposed
like the lovers' promise
to remain eternal?
not me