The Eyes Have It
My eyes burn holes through old locks. Super
human, I reach up and grab planes
with my hands. Catch bullets in my teeth.
Snatch you from your hiding place, set you down
in the Hall of Justice. Now meet what they mete.
American Pop Culture
Scratch this: Scratch the itch that won’t catch: Scratch ‘n’ sniff.
on indelible decal framed
human treadmill scheme.
In dreams we meat our fakir.
American Tourister waves to the maitre d’ while you go
where you want to
shoulders, sprinkling cheese.