The Porcupinity of the Stars

Christmas, 2007 / No. 19

I scoop out the inside of my face

spit the seeds

at the Welcome Wagon

Children, enter my empty head

I have dangerous zits and a porcupine

also a hammock of great ideas

Some kind of emotion whirs like cards

stuck between the spokes of my teeth

or the library

They ask me

what will we see

through your one blind eye?

And I say the childless stars that spangle

the dark thong of the faceless sky

the pole-dancing god who made me