Aug 122011
 
make an art of it swollen lonely and old
finding the Sargasso Sea after many changes
chasing sex at last a last gasp of lust

propelling them many-bodied to the hot waters
eyes engorged against the sea-slime writhe
wriggle rictus of bodies black ropes dropped

to boil in the water-weeds no tract left
for digestion every wet ounce straining
in one direction one only folding and unfolding

until to the observer they compose a single
mass a tangle urging forth from chaos
an egg--they make an art of it.

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