Classic Poem

A conch shell like a board game
with its concentric conveyance
to the center,
sweetbread tissue
of the frontal lobe,

organ of civilization —
so unlike His obsession
for the straight line:
telephone pole
and tree trunk,

ten-penny nail pried from the Ark,
and other instruments
of His invention:
the only violin
in Eden.

Caterpillar, understudy
to the butterfly;
beetles
pinned to linen,
needle-thin antennae

outstretched from their concavities;
body hollow as an oven,
the abortive put up in a pickle
eyes too big
for its head.

More elegant proof of His intention:
the electric chair
is still a chair ,
the mind that thought death
could be made comfortable.