Writing Life (MORTQUE)

Wrist with pen
tongue with sound shaped
these dislodge the disquietude

Clack by keys is but more clamour
a quicker scribe, true, yet
your grandfather clock is a shanty

I am slow
I am pain staking
but the iron rails, once laid
are sure
to quell distant certitudes
with questions querulous of life

But my complaint
is of an over abundance
good Fortune too liberal with me

A bucket of hummus and a single pita chip
such is life—or so as I see

And yet there’s something in the clamor too
a cicada swarm of lipless light
where limitless logicians scalp the sea for what’s right
and I take care of the horses while they drink the ocean dry
an eye for an eye for an eye for an eye
while me and you—we dissolve in the clicking of crab claws
effuse as bubbles breathed: bottom to top

Insect skeletons clothed in mammal fur
nay, sweet, sweet yesses—o me! o man! o living creatures happy!

Such is Life
or such it seems
when windy peaks bemuse our dreams

QUID MORTIS EST VITAQUE

a lobster wrapped in leopard hide
one such as I to bash her brains
while amorous girls watch on
as the eggs which carry her
spawn are sprinkled as lime
over the closed bodies of urchins
unresolute as chaos—as time

Yes, such is life

And so say I