THE BOTTOM OF THE MONSTROUS WORLD

The centaur

With odd-numbered senses

To count up to add

He needs

He wants

To air his cock

To take the air with it

A census

The censor

Will not let such reasonable conclusion stand That such an orphaned piece of flesh

On the rim of things

Crawls into wisdom

Takes hold for description

Like the hermit crab

Houseless and rather ugly in the open

Takes the conch shell

Wearing like a hat

An overcoat.

The center

The homing-in place the hit place Is a wandering target

Is when you don't touch bottom.

And rise up free home free

But when you keep going down

Because of the brightness.

No top no longer with the glare in it

But boxed on all sides with shining

And false norths.

The contours

All are fed by inexhaustible underground streams That come from the other side of the world

Like his wife said

When he told her he once loved a boy,

"I should think two penises

Would be one too many."

one

Gail Chugg

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