Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Kings of Crabs

walking by, perchance to see

just crabs, just people
like you, like me
just us, hand in hand

and them
piled in a pyramid
of life, death

eyes on sticks, legs in beaks
this meddling beside a boiling steaming pot
for melting cretaceous shells and delicious shrieks

underwater creams and garlic screams
steam, or a mist, or a screen of smoke
to suck the breath from some living thing
the brittle spine cooked out of life
detritus reduced to rot

a restaurant, or Dachau, or something else to find
a crab for a full stomach, or a wing
a tribe, a world,
that's all we have to sing
all we've got for a song
an empty mind
with nothing left to find

the grand design
drowning out diminishing stars
flashing lights and everything unfurled
for a pirate flag
and its parasites

where is the vegetarian flock
what draws their furrowed foreheads
this mad?
and bright flashing countenance from this only living planet
who shepherds them away from wrong?

can they not hear the panic bursting bubbles, the underwater throes and shock...

who are you and I
just working, watching, wherever we are, with whatever goes
while nuclear fires, gnaw and glow, poisonous dusts fly and corrode

what else prevails for us to pursue
to erode
to spoil
for war is also here, in our hearts, in our shoe, as we walk a street

we, eating ourselves, with teeth or fire

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