The Cemetery

An ant walking between towering

Stone markings, laughing, hissing

In their silence. The green red

Yellow letters dumbly shouting flashing,

Epitaphs. Tired flowers without chairs,

Standing too long near extended

Extinction, they, too, almost stoned.

The ant, a lion, caught in

His own sand trap-no grass,

It was a desert-meets

A praying mantis whose

Sunday golfball lies in

The street. Rushing for the ball,

They meet, in a motorized night.

The sun, disinherited for his rudeness,

Hideously giggles in his red laugh,

Windily raising dust, choking insects

Without blood, only dried mud

Where humours used to flow.

Too long in the red laugh . . .

(Not even yellow, for he has

Even betrayed cowardice for

Stainless steel smiles

Coining more stainless seeds

Of pseudo-life every time

His comedy is perpetrated.)

The mantis rears his holy

Economy to devour the ant.

No rhythmical hymn to keep

The mantis alive in his death dance.

A puppet of his own history,

He, scissorless, fearfully regards the strings,

Thus eternally writhing unconsciously

Spasmodically until unwittingly

Approaching poison mushrooms.

INTERCOURSE

In the golden jungle

Where no tree grows straight

The liquid honey-glacier melts

Flowing into the valley

From its underground cavern.

An alien monster extension

With fingerlike movements

Quickly shocking the ground

Of their fear-the first time;

The undulating layers of rock

Moving, slipping as the

Red-hot lava takes over

The surface

an alien volcano

Invading the jungle valley

Erupts its lava into

The opposing subterranean

Crater climaxing orgy.