Words that ache profound but fail
like juxtaposed and pithy whales,

what do they mean but sure mayhem?
Taste is but definition's whim.

Engorged inflection then becomes
an amoeba inside a vast humdrum,

its path unfurled like fine scrimshaw,
afraid of its own shadow's swim.

Tininess offset by giant hells,
an ego in a test tube's bell,

a green so small its self is lost
in amputation, at what cost?
Back to HBH
Show Text