there are no slugs
slow enough
to slither backwards
the shining mucus is just
a bed a mess of sheets and laundry
the brink of extinction
the false start
the late morning
the wet sky
nothing in the poem
rattles around
deposit the check
engine light
to see in the dark
please put out the random fires
that don’t need to be lit
the sun isn’t yellow
isn’t up
but is around and around
we go
gravity gets so heavy
when you try to hold it alone
but control is delicious
like gelatin
the world jiggles
the form stays
leakage is sopped up
by the caretaker
fingering the absolute
an arm’s length away
stretching leather
for a new hole
belt tightening power gut
button burnished
by brunt weight
dead lift every day
the same thing
and nothing will happen
any different
five and five makes ten
times it’s all foundational
bad form repeated over and over
weakens the tendons
push it harder
bond with the needs
of an anthill
the little shining bodies
feeling it all out
get reincarnated faster
found out faster
grasshopper dead
eaten in the stomach
find your cousin
eat him again
the queen is
bulbous
and sexy
ant music sounds like rain
ant music is very fast
because their lives are so condensed
like milk in a can
pure cream pure fat
all work and all play
either way
doesn’t matter
to the ant gods
heaven is filled with ants
that did anthood so perfect
no nieces or nephews felt neglect
god parent good parent
baptismal abysmal little
doily lace outfit
save it in the ant trunk
made of cedar
antithetical to termite
might last more life times
going to the ant beat
beauty queen.