Refrigerator Magnet Poem—Tiny Zoo Animal, January 22, 1997

sleep tiny zoo animal
dirt lingers on cold concrete
red meat decays in an ugly cup
explore shadow and steel
watch eyes and hands and smiles
moonlight whispers a dream
the sweet dark forest remembers you



Refrigerator Magnet Poem—Two-tongued Vixen, October 22, 1998


That two-tongued vixen

Soon may speak like a velvet cup

Her cat belly aches deeply

With each lingering mouse stare

And with every tiny bird-roasted yawn

Perhaps she almost said it…

Please listen softly to her voice

Pierce your TV time cloud

Love mush life and pant thy pig dance

Soon it shall all boil away

in a blush of flickering star dust.

Zogo’s Pest Control

Above the color proofing station, at a printing plant in the wilds of Tennessee was a very unique insect collection. A self-appointed curator had haphazardly attached specimens (and various broken bits of specimens), with clear plastic tape to a beige metal panel. This same individual had later taken a grease pencil and scribbled “Zogo’s Pest Control” just to the right of this ragged display. There was a yellow tiger swallowtail, a cecropia moth, two luna moths, a tulip tree moth, a giant sphinx moth, an imperial moth with a big blood stain, a roach, several preying mantis, some crickets, and a large clearwing labeled “import from Vietnam.” The other insects had hastily scribbled labels: F11, F-23, patriot, stealth bomber, scud, etc.

These insects had had the misfortune of flying towards the plant’s bright florescent lights, and making their way into the intricacies of the giant web presses. The foreman informed me that a large moth, when flattened on the blanket, leaves a football-sized mess. Zogo’s insects were the lucky ones that were captured before they could be turned into flattened bug cartoons.

During the course of this summer, Zogo’s collection was doomed to grow ever bigger. All of the printing plant’s windows were wide open and not one of them had a screen.