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Celebration of the Body Univalent


If during some distilled hour it is proven

by a bleached coat in a blanched lab

that I am no more - and never was -

than strings, sticks, and stuffing

sloppily soldered by some hilarious extraterrestrial

gloating in their own soap-bubble of a multiverse

(marionette of a marionette…)

to be an actor cast in their silent films,

then I say this —


I had a damn fine time anyway!

I am glad to have been animated

by whatever imagination would deem me dreamable.

I can laugh myself through death

and, with my envelope sealed by soil,

modify the genes of some future crop

to become the popcorn of Pluto’s casual moviegoer,

year 30-something,

and so be in the hand of yet another jester

transfixed in the theater,

chuckling ’til they choke,

enjoying the joke.

Early Draft
Very First Lines
Near Final (Journal Version)
Streaming Dreams
The Goers
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