TWO POEMS

PIERCED ARMOR

As if this dream

were a prison,

I wander back and forth,

intoxicated, sad and falling,

falling into the colors

of your eyes

whose lights

devour my heart.

MITUS’ REVENGE

Vaginal fluids in compass

develop the delight of corpulent chaos.

Such dreams as a rat might erode

for simple populoids,

I cried like a swansong

howling in the wind,

somberly dancing in leaps

of carbuncle sauce,

such tales have fallen and devoured my madness –

key to the triangular horse of Mitus.