The path is slick like oil, red carpet like wet velvet
And on this mellow field I writhe, a blind, ringed earthworm
I undulate, a rotating tumor, four limbed, the ends to a means
licking the beet-like sugar, bubbles fizzle like cola; I am a fish
I am a metamorphosis, in a salty pool, where Dead Sea rhymes
cannot contain my vivacity, swimming, like a fry, a small cognizant fry


What is this place? A window to a world untouched, muted
Questions quell themselves, green with envy, magic buds liquid life
A core throbs, quaking atop my head, coffee hairs float, in a red sea
Deep gulps, turgid veins, ivory spine, morphing in a malleable shell
Shadows flicker across the belly screen, phantasms grin and growl
Synchronized blinks, a beam, the brightness lurid; I am a speck.


A slimed architecture, bathed in bizarre redolence, a yeasty odor,
Dulcet mesentery garden, grand eloquence, in a sheath of life I curl
Quiet and kinetic, slobbering on thumb, a tactile creation,
a mermaid underwater, climbing towards a colder reality,
Why has it been made that I must depart, my comfort crushed?
I wade and slither, secure in seclusion, in my Eutopian hearth


An unclothed compilation, enfolded in layers, wrapped cellophane skin,
Plato’s cave is kind; shapes frolic boisterous in the rose dark, elated!
How clever are these cleaves, the perfect pinch, an aperture that
awaits, mucous membraned, a tapered trail leading to bright white
I don't want to leave, my ticket first class was cut in two,
somehow in this bloody cavern, where a fuse nourishes,
latched to pink gum laced with bright blue thread


I do not know why I am here, a rubbered cork ready to be corked
a sting in skin, a live form, a wiggling figure in volumetric breath
whining in red smoke of creation, apprehensive, my sentence looms
O bittersweet kismet, this pit and pendulum swing do not creak
well enough, the fruit of my labor is fruitless, cells coalesce, harden
rebuttal is toxic, the wound I reside in quivers, the red fruit aches


I am the seed. My crown pounds the thick soil.
The grains must break as water to oil.
The beautiful dream is through. I am appalled.
Excised from an apple, out the worm crawled
squirming, ripped from most placid sleep!
Into rough palms I fell, a little black sheep



Out in a cinch, on like a light switch, I sway, side to side,
pushed through the hot red fire; Andro taps the jar,
burly hands pry, the sac’s mortal innards shake, and...
sliding down the alley of New
I am expelled into the cryptic air: scraped from a perfect tomb, 
aquatic skinned, trembling in the resounding din
a hapless, wailing excrement, doomed to death
with a corpulent pair of toed fins

Ready to begin

Prepared to end.