Classic Poem

Real
walking on water scenes!
Nine monsters are crawling up out
of the pond.
All but all are evil.
Each loves us.
White, yellow, rare -
pain is in flesh like moisture
gathering for an unknown
flood.
Whip and laughter, the woman's noise
and song; lightning weeps
into thunder
and the scream is long.
O this is too hungry, too much
thirst without the tongue
working and too many breaks
in the skin through which we see
and hear and feel
the walls of a distorted
room.
Float by me torpid boat
for the human monsters are rising
from the womb.
Suffering, growing...