In my soul grows a small soul.
In my small soul, one smaller.
Infinite repetition, nonstop loop.
Each beanstalk is an endophyte.
Inside my teeth lie small baby teeth.
Inside those, infinitesimal baby teeth.
I reject each grim oath whispered
by gypsies in Western Mass. I fumigate
rotting futons. If he were still akickin'
I'd kick Robert Frost's ass
in kickball. I'd pop the ball, restitch it
with shards of marble. I'd talk shit +
run up the motherfuckin' score.
The game within the game.
I hereby donate my bargain-bin
Kama Sutra handbook to a humanoid
giraffe named Koan. Koan rocks black
glasses and a Kangol.