Ben Doyle

What is the Opposite of Civilization

the third and only void from the first right;
the three-celled transparent cold crustacean
sweeping the fullfathomed floor; night
absolute under the igloo ocean;
not let there be but gross starlight
calling this hayseed in my hand (quark
of the hayfield, and of the bigger nouns
it feeds eventualities)–this hayseed of a town–
out from all the others question mark

Maybe shutting me maw up, not eating,
not saying, not kissing or licking to anoint
the spot that will permit me a meeting
with my replicate self exclamation point

© 2005 Electronic Poetry Review