Big die. Small die.
Paper playing field.
Sharpened pencils plot
Behold the charts!
The roll and click
Snake eyes and
in the dream season.
No sooner had the words leapt
from my mouth than they just died.
They fell and crashed like eggs on smoke.
Perhaps it’s good I lied.
My tongue was roped, then given hope,
then surely lashed and tied.
I saw a verb against the curb
bleed vowels from its side.
My head’s become a cave
for dying sentences, it seems.
They leak out nightly, gross, unsightly,
prodded on by dreams.
And as the wellspring gives them life
from somewhere deep inside,
just rest assured that every word’s
an oral suicide.
The nodding schedule
of the world unencumbered
exacted a diagram
of freeze-free trees
and glowing hair.
Of wastrel gasses
and canned contamination
not a peep was heard,
fences and walls withstained.
Reality had a hardball factor.
The zen pool soon imploded.
Factual orbits identified
and rerouted groundswells.
Larva covered lava.
And the fish ran away
Battered rook and powdered knight,
salted bishop, set to fight.
King and queen are in the castle.
Leave the prawnlike pawns to hassle.
In this world of sixty-four,
refined moves define each score.
Every route and battle path
boils down to essential math.
Behold now the L-shaped knight.
Salted bishop stays on white.
Pawns move two then hesitate.
King spends life avoiding mate.
While the bold and mighty queen
captures all and in between.
King is like a nervous wreck
waiting to pick up the check.
Olympic mountains hover
after midnight on t.v.,
awaking western watchers
with the threat of victory.
The Russian peaks resplendent
with a snow as white as ours
belie a time when megatons,
not ribbons, measured powers;
when missiles sat in silos,
fully dressed, awaiting word,
and mutual destruction
was the only prize assured.
The voicelessness of mimes in trees,
like toilet paper hung on breeze,
or choking back an ardent sneeze,
the subtle change as droplets freeze,
springs into life upon dead air,
transmission interruptus there:
where once was music shrill and loud
now hangs a huge but silent cloud.
Some spark or neuron has extinguished.
Aural lifeline’s been relinquished.
Sound waves flattened, noise turned white,
hearing distant, severed kite.
Carcinogens can be found in aisle C.
Around the cabbage, cukes and cummerbunds.
Just before the coke and cocoa, comrade.
Cigarettes in cartons, if you’ve funds.
Careless castanets cascade around us.
Chokecherries and chainsaws caterwaul.
Cell phones and cicadas seem to call us.
Canted carousels have their own wall.
Continental cuisine packed in cardboard.
Cellophane and cake cohabitate.
Cold cream, chili, coconuts and cordite.
Cards that cry you must congratulate.
Carry-alls that celebrate consumption.
Craven chessmen carved of cedar wood.
Cans that cannot conceal cruel corrosion.
Chemicals would choke you if they could.
Cash and carry, credit or cold cash:
Cancer capital is its own crash.