Atop every difference, a label.
reading of this label enfolds news.
Lives of plankton adjust to
temperature. The whale shark
meanders with mouth
ope. 'Ope' means language
can look funny. Fu Manchu
will someday, he swears,
harness the power of. Now,
the whale shark weaves. Hunger
is the sense of
a poem inside. So what do we call
teachers? They rave on
the polemics instituted
upon parcels of land, rich
segment of society, a hill
of beans. The shark is not
trouble, it carries
30 tons. And those tons
are profound poems. Or sardines,
the likes of which are
so shiny. Taste your poem
in distress. The year needs a life
like yours. You meet the impasse
with dutiful respect. Things
could change
overnight. Warm water pulls
plankton to the sun. all are in
agreement. A poems as
sloppy as words
exists. Its shark
exists too.
