an off-topic, thoroughly undream poem by Chris Wayan, April 1 1983
dedicated to allergics and asthmatics everywhere
When days and bees grow fat again, |
the world lusts, erectile.
Sex swims the air, valentines
of mad lace balls invisibly
Pelting bug windows, ovary doors.
"C'mere, big boy" the flowers croon,
Nude dancers on my lawn. Ah,
you love-poisoned world beyond the glass,
Bell-jar, bell-jar... how belle you are.
Wherever I go,
Every spring I burn and moan
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