
I STILL WANT THE CHEESCAKE
All over my back lawn, settlers
People kissing backpacks
In my bathroom, a new secretary
(I'll take over now, Cameron, thank you)
And this lovely childhood full of birds
Threading ripe intestines through the loopholes of destiny . . .
CAT FOR SALE--WILL CONSIDER TRADE
It's a rather flat bed of water
Death with its silencer, the way God used to be enough of a cocktail
What I hate most are the red cups
And the way they commiserate with the flocks of dandelions
Like spring spilling out of a colostomy bag
The antlers broken in piles and falling off the pellucid paddy wagon
Hamlet's running away with his brain-stem half gone
The rest of the habitat's not quite at piece in this
___non-documentable country


























