Cadmus and His Queen Transform’d to Serpents
You join the consortium to build
a more interactive learning
platform. You fork
your tongue to better tuck it
in both cheeks at once. You play the harmonica
in your cleanest sweatpants to increase
shareholder value. You wave
at your colleagues while you pontificate,
forgetting that you mic is on mute.
You wonder what it’s like
to be touched by an angel when
touching is prohibited.
You better run before
they reopen the murder beaches,
You never know who will show
up to the televised revolution
but you know they will most certainly
stink on ice.
The Story of Perseus
Bastard that I am,
the only throne I’ll ever sit
clogs as quickly as my arteries.
On the other side
of the glass, a view we’ve paid
to believe. Inconceivable,
we think, but then the parlour game
turns out to be played
w/ blades unsheathed. I never boasted
about my permit to carry
a concealed agenda, but I have issues
& back issues & gold-leafed
covers woven by fey spiders
who live in the hollowed-out
eye sockets of bodhisattvas;
now touch me,
can’t you see that I am not afraid
to lie about asynchronous learning
objectives? I braid the frayed hair
of My Little Pegasus & withdraw
the severed head from my messenger
bag to turn the stone cold
walls to flesh like a Lego man
in a Lego house.
No comments:
Post a Comment