Poem to my job

Not at the moment dancing in a nightclub ☹
featuring the flamboyant décor
and sonorous, labialized lighting of the cochlear
fenestra of the ear, and emphasizing instead
an intrinsic or essential lack of harmony,
I quarrel with myself,
a round-bodied unsegmented worm or
caged animal, a fish that is neither (sigh) a sport fish
nor an important food for sport fishes ☹.
I bear and distribute this revolving vertical spindle as
a mass choking a passage, a pungent blue cheese
related to the chimpanzee, but less erect
and much larger, weighted and strained at isolated points
and sometimes used disparagingly.
In rough disorderly unrestrained fighting or struggling
against habitual or mechanical performance
of established procedure, I grow gormless, stupefied, stout,
bleached out as Johnny Roustabout, a circus worker
and usually horny and branching axial skeleton
who cleans the nightsoil of alleged tribes
of hairy academic gooseflesh women.
This act or instance of wandering
and superfluity, deprived of courage and capacity
for sovereign thought or action: a bloodcurdling
film of cobwebs floats in the despotic air. Meanwhile
an electric lamp or hybrid lemon forms a large
spreading thorny tree in which discharge of electricity
causes luminosity of a nearly globular acid fruit. Its enclosed vapor
implies a throwing off of something both useless
(a comic routine, a dance routine, a gymnastic routine)
and an encumbering in hopes of a renewal of vitality and luster,
but joined with a slight twist and drawn out into rusty roving gorges.
Having full unimpeded resonance of tone, my sharp
marginal points at the end of a spur are inclined to ramble or stray
in states of wild confusion or disorderly retreat, bellowing loudly
in prolonged bursts (as of applause) pronounced with the lip
rounded. Oh these ugly folk dances in which the gorgons form a ring
and move in straight-legged stiff-legged step
in a prescribed direction like cucumbers, like clamshells,
like chisels, like pumpkins – intermediate between the swans and ducks –
uncouth, barbarous, and goyische.
How like phenolic pigment in an ovary or egg –
all wedged in tiny slits between the rump and lower leg!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s