3 poems from last fall (revised)

Onions

I am grape jelly and salt
sitting on a sofa
which sinks into the
scent of onions

that pervade the cadavers
that are housed across
the road- time floats
by and before we know it

we are onions too
squishy and crying and blue
but yummy when eaten
in a casserole of last

second preparation- all
that we create is
thrown up against the
wall to see what sticks

and it is peeled away like
months, like onions
until the center of
nothingness is reached

Sex Is Fucking Death

The penis entereth vaginaland
and calls forth a symposium
on the politics of sperm selection
and ovulatory discrimination

even on a cellular level
order and chaos are constantly
in a dance- although from afar
one would think it a war

In the canyons I hike down
and eventually up reluctantly
I notice the water has
carved out this amazing fucker

its like the earth having sex
with itself. And the mountains
way up there smug and all that
will be worn down in

God knows when- but that is
nature- one giant viagara
capsule and we are all sucking
it down trying to keep it up.


Boobs

I remember China used to be upside down
until I learned that America was discovered
much later, and that it was we who were upside
down and Columbus must have fallen off the earth.

Today, we take a cheese clothe and pass it through
our bodies knowing that America is cleansing us
and we wipe our ass with the dream

inside the vagina there is a three ringed circus
and a bear on a unicycle is wincing to nine inch nails,
fuck like an animal indeed.

I grab your breasts, objects of my fixation
and hang on for dear life
realizing I may fall and break
the mirror we are doing it on

okay, that was good
let us swap spit and tell ghost stories