Monday, April 4, 2011


I am trapped.
In a bowl.
That could hold a fish that will fight and eat another to its death,
Watery fleshy bits floating,
Sink tub ocean of the mind,
Orgasmic loathing, heave out another sigh, you landlubber,
Bubbles rising to the surface-belch!
Breathe now, hiccup and it’s done.
But I’ll never have gills,
Inadequate, I fear, for aquatic life,
Rising falling rising falling.
Yeah, that fish, I put mirrors in its bowl—
And so it swam in circles,
Eating itself,
Its own enemy, flesh and blood.

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