|
1. The
Luminous Squid
The luminous squid, the
luminous squid,
the scientists found it, they
found it, they did!
Deep off Hawaii in the trench where it hid:
the sleek and elusive and
luminous squid.
The luminous squid, the
luminous squid,
Jacques Cousteau missed it, as
did Captain Kidd.
It was found near Oahu, and not
near Madrid:
the newsworthy mollusk, the
luminous squid.
The luminous squid, the
luminous squid
does not eat blue heron or
green katydid.
But if smallish crustaceans you
want to get rid
then toss them right in with
the luminous squid.
The luminous squid, the
luminous squid,
(a sailmaker's
hand tool is known as a "fid"
and his plug of tobacco he
might call his "quid,"
and when spitting he could spot
a luminous squid).
The luminous squid, the
luminous squid,
has tendered a merciless
takeover bid
to oust the sea slugs and to
finally be rid
of those urchins, that
crotchety luminous squid.
The luminous squid, the
luminous squid,
has no superego, it's all about
id
and the mating and eating and
mating amid
some more eating, the
gluttonous luminous squid.
The luminous squid, the
luminous squid
was once in a footnote that
started "ibid."
I would tell you about it, but
time does forbid
me from saying much more of the
luminous squid.
2. Algebra
The juvenile of the species
is just half the size of a pea,
feeding only on sewage and
feces
'til washed by the rain to the
sea.
Saltwater transforms the small
creatures:
skin thickens, emergence of
stumps.
The larvae are washed up on
beaches,
and quiver in whirling black
clumps.
Cocooned, pupal
forms growing blurry,
building gristle and muscle and
nerve,
'til they burst from the beach
in a flurry,
killing everything in the
preserve.
And the algebra of their
destruction
is the simplest of all of the math.
It's the ultimate living
reduction:
"X is greater than all in
its path."
3. Supraboll Weevil
Supraboll weevil big mean bug
Eat up them children and dogs
Live out back by the smoking
shed
Him nest made of rocks and logs
Supraboll weevil big sharp teeth
Cut through them fences and
chains
Gnaw at the windows late at
night
Leaving brown tobacco stains
Supraboll weevil big hard shell
Him paneled all like a truck
Meet him out on that mill pond
path
Him happy, you out of luck
Supraboll weevil big long legs
With hairy old joints and nubs
Walking to find him lady bug
To bear him a nest of grubs
Supraboll weevil big old thing
Been living here long as sin
We try and try to make him
leave
Him always come back again
4. Lamprey
Oh lamprey, dear lamprey, my petromyzon,
thine round jawless mouth like a small setting
sun.
Yon sun, though, has no rasping
tongue in its midst,
like thine:
gently drilling through prey thou has kissed.
Oh lamprey, dear lamprey, thine ammocoetes
(as thine
larvae are called) are the belles of the seas:
armed with nary a sucker nor
even a tooth,
they dost oozeth
just slime that doth capture their foodth.
Oh lamprey, dear lamprey, thine seven paired gills
and thine
one dorsal nostril dost givest me chills.
Thou art sleek and effective,
thy perfect design
rules out cold evolution, and
proves the divine.
Oh lamprey, dear lamprey,
through manmade canals
thou hast swum from the ocean
to finer locales:
to Lake Huron, and Erie, and Michigan too,
to Superior,
via Lake Ontarioo.
Oh lamprey, dear lamprey, yon Great Lakes are thine,
thou King of the Fishes Who
Don't Have a Spine!
5. Dragon
From out of Silena
they creep
with today's tribute: my two
sheep.
I feign sleep, they close their
gate.
Spearing the fat ewe with a
claw,
I stuff her squirming in my
maw,
as my paw crushes her mate.
Soon the shepherds' stocks will
run low,
they have my terms, my quid pro
quo.
They all know the rules of
trade.
Two sheep are equal to one girl
child,
tender and sweet, the flesh so
mild,
not like the wild meat I raid.
I lounge, lazy, by my black
lake
and pray the Lord their sheep
to take,
craving a break from stinking
ewes.
I've heard whispers of some new
knight
bragging that he will lift
their blight.
I think I might be amused.
I find his ambition charming
and quaint,
It's been some time since I've
eaten a saint.
6. Snapper
He's a mean one, he is, that ol' snapper,
been livin'
in my pond for years.
But as soon as I call me a
trapper,
that son of a bitch disappears.
If you're out near my pond, you
don't linger,
you keep an eye out where you
walk.
I've had to point out my
missing finger
to folks who think that's idle
talk.
When you go out to catch fish,
he'll follow
just beyond the reach of your
oar,
floatin' there, lookin'
for bait to swallow,
that ol'
stealin' son of a whore.
He's snapped him just enough
folks around here
to get a taste for human blood:
I know of three fingers, five
toes, an ear,
he's snapped right clean off at
the bud.
He's the nastiest snapper ever
spawned.
Why'd the son of a bastard pick
my pond?
7. Where the
Oysters Are
Push off in the bateau
and through the marsh we go,
way on out there where the
oysters are.
Toss out the dredge and tong
drag and pull all day long.
It's our job to stock the
oyster bar
at the brand new resort
where the rich folk cavort,
arriving in their expensive
cars,
to eat oysters and drink,
all wrapped up in the stink
of imported fine hand-wrapped
cigars,
never thinking of us
who work from dawn to dusk,
way on out there where the
oysters are.
8. Owl House
asio, tyto, pulsatrix,
ninox, bubo, otus and
strix,
latin genera
snakes from hera
minerva
artemis
nocturnal carnivorous bird
silent in the gloaming has
stirred
night flights from owl house
meadow jumping mouse
before the plows
who has heard
soft pellets from the owl house
rain
bed made bone and fur
counterpane
down flow the feathers
chilly night weather
bird leather
charles's wain
lilith, askefruer, artemis
tiamat, morgan
reminisce
night rites standing stones
grasshopper mouse bones
birthing moans
owl houses
9. Honeybee
Kills
(queens eat their child-kings)
honeybee kills
june bug thrills
locust spits and sings
arthropod gang
swarm und drang
plague of flying things
hail of whining wings
rain of painful stings
pill bug rolls
walking stick strolls
dung the beetle brings
mantis prays
cicada stays
(buried twelve more springs)
10. The Secret
History of the Ants
If it ever presents itself,
you should really jump at the
chance
to hear an expert speak about
the secret history of the ants.
I caught such a lecture one
time
at the community center,
and was really quite knocked
out by
the knowledge of the presenter.
I hadn't known that ants had
built
the Pyramids, the Sphinx and Rome,
or that they had come from Asia
seeking warmer, more fertile
homes.
Or that ants
developed printing
some time around 90 B.C.
The fact that they founded England
was quite interesting news to
me.
Emperor Crematogaster
sent a fleet to Labrador's shores,
sailing westward through the
Trade Winds,
then the Doldrums, with tiny
oars.
The average ant can now expect
to live to be really quite old,
in large part because Labidus
found a cure for the common
cold.
While people focus on their
queens,
their role is one of tradition:
ants have been Social Democrats
since Myrmica's
Third Edition.
It's been at least three
decades since
they landed the first ant on
Mars,
from their orbiting space
stations
they are now heading for the
stars.
The secret history of the ants
is compelling as you can see,
but it's been hidden all these
years
by government conspiracy.
So write to your congressperson,
tell them to set these secrets
free,
you'll make the world a better
place
for six legged crawlers like
me.
11. Barb
I guess I pity that bee that
stung me,
her stinger ripped right out of
her abdomen,
poison sac pumping
automatically,
as she flew away, never to
sting again.
I'm thinking of that bee as I
lay here,
unable to move in my gardening
frock.
My suffering, like hers, is
quite severe,
as I'm succumbing to
anaphylactic shock.
Each of us did our share to
encourage floral growth,
until our unfortunate chance
encounter killed us both.
12. Hunger
now the needing
come the needing
hunting calls
our calls
time for feeding
hungry feeding
scale the walls
sheer walls
raid the stable
silent stable
pick the meat
fresh meat
to the table
set the table
choose a seat
steel seat
and the prayers
say the prayers
bless this day
our day
silent slayers
bless the slayers
let us prey
we prey
13. Natural
History
The ammonites farmed with diazinon
to kill eurypterids beneath the
soil.
Which perished there in
darkness 'neath the lawn,
but rose in eighty million years
as oil,
which dinosaurs refined for
natural gas
to cook their giant land sloths on steel spits.
As sloths
were butchered, forests made of grass
rose from the plains to hide
the black tar pits,
where trilobites would swim to
lay their eggs.
Their larvae flew and bit the
mastodons,
while tiny primates scampered
round their legs,
feeding on the fresh diazinon.
At night, the primates fidget
as they dream
of interstellar rockets powered
by steam.
14. Plague
With a whining hum they come
swarming
cross the prairie, down
valleys, o'er plain,
little eating machines
transforming
crops to dust that runs off
with the rain.
As we stand in the mud and
wonder
how our fields have been turned
into bogs,
we again hear the sound of
thunder
and look up as it starts raining
frogs.
15. Bird Bush
In hand,
I have one bird.
There are two in that bush.
I smile, and point my flame
thrower:
Three birds.
16. Cassowary
The ostrich is bigger and a
good deal more famous
so if we've not heard of the cassowary,
well, you really can't blame us:
It's just the world's second
biggest bird, and as such gets forgotten,
though the lack of acclaim it
receives is quite rotten.
There are three different
species of this noble specimen,
(if you thought there were
four, then we'd tell you to guess again),
there's a one-wattled species, and then a dwarf model,
and the Southern strain's
marked by its two fleshy wattles.
Unlike most birds, the males of
these species are tender,
standing tall (nearly six feet)
as their offspring's defenders,
while the mother birds are off
having good birdlike fun,
the males stay at home,
guarding the nest and the young.
And as guards go, these guys
have the means and the arms
(well not arms, really: feet
are the way that they'd harm
any threats to their families,
with five-inch long claws,
they dismember things
threatening them with foaming jaws).
So three cheers for the
Cassowary, hip hip hooray,
(I just wish the one standing
here would go away).
17. Ratsnake
Sweet Lord Almighty, tell me
what was that thing?
I ain't never
seen nothin' like that 'round here!
Like a big salamander with
greasy black hair,
long skinny body with little
round ears,
and its feet was clawed, and it
had sharp teeth
and a long naked tail, Lord,
just like a rat!
Sweet Jesus, when it first
jumped up on the bed
I woke up to pet it, thinkin' it was my cat.
Oh, Lordy,
I 'bout fainted when I saw what it was
and I spooked it, too, with my
screaming, I guess,
like a rocket it scooted on out
of the room,
while I laid there shakin', Lord, I was a mess.
So I got me a stick an' a
flashlight an' sack,
and spent hours a-huntin', dear God, all in vain,
since I never did find it, Oh
Jesus, it scares me,
to think that it might come
back in here again.
18. Cells
Miss Julizab
Allers will live on forever
in dishes and beakers in
researchers' labs.
Her cells are immortal, they're
healthy and fertile,
in shimmering clusters they
crawl 'cross their slabs.
Aggressively spreading, they're
just like the cancer
from which they were cultured.
As Julizab died
from lesions and tumors, the
doctors spread rumors
of soft tissue samples which
she could provide.
So instead of a patient, who
might be reluctant,
the doctors could test their
new cures on her cells,
they could treat them and kill
them, make them lie still, then
grow more for the next batch of
research as well.
Poor Julizab
Allers was buried a pauper,
her grave dug and filled
without marker or stone,
while her cells spread and
flourished, exquisitely nourished
by wealthy old doctors who
she'd never known.
Do we pity her plight? Do we
take up her cause?
Are her friends and her family
aware she's alive
in those beakers and dishes?
Were those her wishes?
That she would die, while her
cancer survived?
19. Pests
Unleash the hounds and let the
falcons fly;
our fields are filled with rats
and mice and moles
who eat our wheat and tunnel 'neath our rye.
Unleash the hounds and let the
falcons fly,
to hunt the vermin in our food
supply,
to rip them from their nests
and hidden holes.
Unleash the hounds and let the
falcons fly;
Our fields are filled with rats
and mice and moles.
(We bar the gates with iron
rods and logs,
to hide from hunting birds and
prowling dogs).
20. The International
Brotherhood of Bridge and Tower Trolls, Local 801
Enough with the under the bridge
nonsense.
Who can sleep with all that trickety
trot?
The lonely towers, too, that gig is tiresome:
up there, in the summer, it gets too hot.
(Though it's still kinda fun crushing people with
rocks,
or hoovering lambkins that have strayed from their
flocks).
We need to organize, get together,
send a delegation somewhere, and soon.
We want to move to the suburbs and rent movies,
porn surf all night and then sleep until noon.
(We can get some gold-spinning nasty little gnomes
to help us raise the cash we need for our new homes).
And a dental plan, we sure need that bad,
those billy goat bones are hell on the jaws.
I think we should demand eight weeks paid vacation,
and contracts with some sort of no-trade clause.
(Unless, of course, they want to send us someplace posh,
with king sized beds, good room service and lots of dosh).
Imagine an army of us marching
to Lincoln's
memorial, late at night.
We have nothing to lose but bridges and towers:
Working trolls of the world, rise up, unite!
(I dunno . . . seems like a lot of hard work, for
what?
Everything I need's down stream in that peasant's hut).
21. The Slime Mold
Sonnet
The myxomycetes
are back again.
They're crawling (slowly) cross the mulch we've spread.
Like yellow satin sacks with jam within,
they ooze and flow across our flower beds.
The blob we see is their plasmodium:
a mass of nuclei in one cell wall.
Most folks regard them with some odium,
but they don't really bother me at all.
When dried, the oozing blob releases spores,
that spread by wind, then creep across our yard
to each our mulch. They grow and grow some more,
becoming multinucleate and large.
I know that I should kill them and be done,
instead I move them elsewhere, just for fun.
22. Quaternary
Paleoecology
foraging foresters fly through
the trees
hunters and gatherers gather
and hunt
suffering sailors succumb to
the seas
doctors and lawyers make law
and disease
the pick of the litter devours
the runt
foraging foresters fly through
the trees
tropical forests grow cool by
degrees
spinning off cyclones behind
polar fronts
suffering sailors succumb to
the seas
snow bound, the hunters and
gatherers freeze
chipping at ice 'til their
stone points grow blunt
foraging foresters fly through
the trees
up in the canopy, over the
breeze
lawyers and doctors are safe
from the brunt
suffering sailors succumb to
the seas
runts at the forest's edge,
hugging their knees,
pining for sea air, they gibber
and grunt
foraging foresters fly through
the trees
suffering sailors succumb to
the seas
23. Load Bearing
Member
While my load is far heavier than I
am,
I'll be damned if I drop it now.
I've got to get it home somehow,
fast as my legs will allow.
The path is uneven and strewn with rocks,
the clock's taking time away.
I've been travelling hard all day,
to get this home straightaway.
I'm bruised and sore and my load is battered,
my tattered feet have been abused.
I count my steps, three sets of twos,
and sniff for familiar views.
So that load was far heavier than I was,
but because I was sore and lame,
I just couldn't defend my claim
when the meat-eating flies came.
I was home ten minutes, then ordered out
to the south, we'd blazed a new trail.
We set out, antennae to tail,
to bring home loads, without fail.
24. Field Agents
"Let him out, he's coming now,
he's alone,"
(I can not tolerate the taste of this megaphone).
Deep in the coop, the fox, he sees that some hens have flown,
his cover's blown, (tympanic bone, Rosetta stone).
And then the hawk drops down from his perch on high,
(spearing the fox through, he lets out a little cry),
Justice is quick here, we stand and we watch him die,
I dunno why (fluorescent dye, blueberry pie).
We pull the poor poultry out from the killing floor
(some of the pups get sick there in the feath'ry
gore),
out on the lawn, we stack them up and note the score:
it's twenty-four (esprit de corps, espectador).
Back in the barn, now, safe in our little stalls
(I watch those damn bugs climbing around the walls),
We sleep and eat hay, waiting 'til duty calls,
as the time crawls (Niagara Falls,
no one recalls).
25. Gemini Snake
Gemini Snake coming out of the
forest,
all through the night, he rolls on, he rolls on,
I had a dream he was headed this way, and
I'm thinkin' he'll get here tomorrow, 'round dawn.
Gemini Snake at the edge of the farmlands,
he never stops, he rolls on, he rolls on,
went to the church to tell Preacher he's coming,
and bone up a bit on those visions of John's.
Gemini Snake in the next village over,
spinning off sparks, he rolls on, he rolls on,
on the horizon, we see smoke arising,
we tend to our crops and chew bitter pecans.
Gemini Snake coming faster and faster,
right into town, he rolls on, he rolls on,
passes the town square and court house on Main Street,
damned if he doesn't roll right to my lawn.
Gemini Snake passes straight through my property,
he doesn't stop, he rolls on, he rolls on,
where he is headed now, I can't imagine,
but I'm quite relieved by the fact that he's gone.
26. Hunters
i.
walking through the wet webs
that laced the darkened vale
stepping on the spiders falling down upon the trail
ii.
dreaming hard of violence
beneath a hunter's moon
he woke up paralyzed inside a silken grey cocoon
27. Volvox
the ones equipped with whips
steer those of us who breed
we all depend for nourishment
upon the ones who feed
we're quite the colony
all thousand of us here,
a clustered ball of sticky cells,
a green and perfect sphere
inside us, smaller globes
grow bigger by the day
in time, our children split our walls
and then they float away
28. Gorge
The gorge divides the city down
its middle, like a gash.
Four bridges span the rocky rift,
that teems with scum and trash.
The houses on its crests are nice,
their neighborhoods are clean.
The business district buzzes like
a well-oiled cash machine.
The surface dwellers up there think
it's dead and still down here.
They only pay attention when
their children disappear.
And when they're down here looking for
their daughters and their sons,
we laugh inside our little caves
just like we've always done.
29. Don't You
Touch That Thing
don't you touch that thing
there's no tellin'
what it's got
even when it's dead, it might
could sting
i think that broken part right
there is its wing
this might be the one that flew
'round here last spring
right before the weather got
real hot
listen, don't you touch that
thing
who knows what it's got
your uncle he shot one in the
woods one time
it came right at him so he just
fired
lucky shot, cut through its
spine
screamin' and dyin'
all black blood and slime
he told me what had transpired
when he shot one in the woods
one time
it screamed as it flew at him so
he just fired
thing is, I can't think just
how
this one ended up dead on the
ground
listen, you run on home real
quick now
tell your uncle what you found
30. The Remora Sonnet
Remoras
is the bestest fish there is
(except for maybe lampreys). Look them up:
their dorsal fin a classic piece of phys-
iogony, they're nature's suction cup.
They're in the order "discocephali"
(of course, that means "a disc upon the head")
and cling to zippy fishes swimming by,
though sometimes riding passing ships instead.
While coarser folks may call them "sucker fish,"
methinks "remora" sounds mellifluous,
and I would never serve them on a dish,
but, rather, I would seat them next to us.
So you would care to join us now for lunch?
My friends and I have copepods to crunch . . .
31. Tapeworm
Does he live in your intestine?
(Yes, he does, the tapeworm, yes)
Did you know you let him get in?
(Yes, you did, the tapeworm, yes)
When you didn't wash your fingers
(No, you didnt,
bad boy, no)
After play where kitty lingers
(Pretty kitty's tapeworms, yes)
Do you feel his little hookies
(Yes, his hookies,
tapeworm teeth)
Clasping where you digest cookies
(Yes, he likes them, tapeworm, yes)
You get thinner, he gets fatter
(Yes, he does, the tapeworm, yes)
Mom and Day say "What's the
matter?"
(No, don't tell them, bad boy, no)
Tapeworm healthy, tapeworm long
(Yes, he lengthy, tapeworm, yes)
Tapeworm likes this little song
(See him dancing, tapeworm, yes)
Do you like your little buddy?
(Yes, you do, the tapeworm, yes)
Even when you're feeling cruddy?
(Don't get mad at tapeworm, no)
Makes his home in your intestine
(Yes, he does, the tapeworm, yes)
Aren't you glad you let him get in?
(Yes, you are, you good boy, yes)
|