THE PROCESSION

A solemn procession
began to meander
through a river of glass,
dancing sedately with
the monkeys that hovered
like golden diamonds
around the sun.
It wound its way snake-like
toward a gleaming shadow
that hung from a hillside
in France.
Its marchers wore masks
made of crystals that tasted
of wine.
And they slithered their tongues
out of wholes in the masks
that quivered and throbbed
like the labia of voluptuous octopi.
The squirming tongues
reminded me of sea snakes,
and the spittle raining
from their tips
resembled some strange nectar
gathered from the flowers of the moon.
I saw the eyes that glittered through
the jewel encrusted masks,
golden like the eyes of some
godlike carnivore
that roared through the jungles
at dawn.
I expected soon that I would be devoured
and grasping my own genitals
I danced until I turned into a fire.

THE CATERPILLAR CARNIVAL

Cerebral as a caterpillar
raised upon the wings of a nuclear express:
Who would have thought that you could run so far
without a songbird crawling
from the jungle of your mind?
I had run the paceswith a sword of crinoline
and had sucked upon the nightmares of desire,
but my sorry dreams were dancing backwards
while I sewed a strange earthquake
into the fabric of your brain.
Its curls were finished
and its sea monkeys were
making love
to a squirrel-faced clown
whose ruffled collar
was infused with the wines of Arabia,
the magical grapes of a desert wind
that howled through the soul
of a jack-o-lantern.
It was a day for dancing, thinking, reeling,
peeling back the veils of morality
to gaze upon the undulating flesh
that knew the cryptic password
to the ever-open loins:
"Ham, the imp coos and hits;
all imps act so..."
And with this cry a carnival erupts
into the skin
and dances over valleys
of exquisite joy
bursting the cocoon of limitations
to fly into a liquid sun
that drips inebriating nectar
into the silver cunt of the moon.