from (C)OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS, Book the Fourth

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.

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from (C)OVID'S METAMORPHOSIS, Book the Fifth

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