title from dj

travesty axis



djuana sits on her wee balcony
jack on his front porch
tasha in her wee hours
finch in her cold perch.

lynze in her cave
calls to tara in her bole
crow sits on the knave
addiction, notsmith rehashes soul

and eden's lost in paradise
while fyodor's lost in hell
why not it could mean money
if poetry ever sells.

the dancer weaves and bobs with god
and names it new or old
with jewels from the ocean's chod
he offers in lieu of gold

way past in myth, are women faire
fuzzy raine upon a wriist
one for each night, a debonaire
st thomas walker twist.

why travesty, you rhyming twit
why axis, why disease?
an old monk's will left u bewitched
under dishwasher's tears.

there was time, fine points
of geeks reversing into sluts
and nerds into girls whose joints
required a quantum door be shut

this is getting out of skin
said jen, being blue tattooed
must you let in everyone
you think you ever knew?

why not, each lens of a flyeye
refracts a different angle
anarchic mythos will require
a lot of worms adangle.

harumph, aroused from silken veils
natalka at last speaks,
i'll be the judge of travesties
of which THIS "poem" reeks.

i gave it berth and room till worms
adangled in the creek. what are
we, fish caught, split and churned
then fried, left on the bar?

you don't get the metaphor at all
the author speaks. oh but i do
and not dead yet, dear natalka
rises with an axis on a spool.

and in that spool, the gathered threads
and in those threads the wooly worms
and in those worms the muse is fed
and in the fed is found the home.