Sunday, October 24, 2010

Lungs

Lungs are the forests of the body, pegged
at the bleeding edge of a sponge: lungs are an image
sandwiched between broccolis of meat.


Lungs are lawns pocked with bunkers
Radiating out from the heart of the club.
Lungs are El Niño, Singapore Sling, Beelzebub.


Lungs are a chameleon. Then they’re not.
Lungs are a decision tree. Lungs are a drop
of dye dripped


in a glass of water. Lungs are the tip
of an iceberg ... not. Lungs are your internal air bag,
useless in a crash. Lungs make you


a wine flask. A blushful Hippocrene.
Caverns measureless to man.


Song for a Neglected God







When God left the


church at five


he took his golden revolver and


headed for the meadows


for target practice.


At about


ten, he headed


home


to his wife


and children


passing


in his car


a row of willows.







Friday, October 22, 2010

Lungs



Lungs are the forests of the body, pegged


At the bleeding edge of a sponge: an image


Sandwiched between broccolis of meat.


Lungs are lawns pocked with bunkers


Radiating out from the heart of the club house.


Lungs are El Niño, Beelzebub, Singapore Sling.


Lungs are a chameleon. Then they’re not.


Lungs are a decision tree.


Lungs are a drop of dye dropped


in a glass of water. Lungs are the tip


of an iceberg. Not. Lungs are your internal air bag,


useless in a crash. Lungs make you


a wine flask. A blushful Hippocrene.


Caverns measureless to man.



Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Eyes


If the eye were a person, would it see?
Or would it remain blind to avoid redundancy?
But evolution’s not like that. An extra organ comes in handy.
When threading a needle, for instance.
Or when you are lost in a hurricane.
The day has millions in summer, as many as the flies
mobbing your mouth as you hike across the meadows.
Whatever it is, the eyes have it.

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