The Cemetery Womb
 

From
the cosmos
to the micro
to the macro
sperm
plus
ovum
equals
the continuous
square
of
becoming;
While,
in the bellies
of mud-women,
dust-babies
sleep
beneath
the ruby
womb light
when...
SQUEEZE!
PULL!
PLOP!
sudden discharge
from aqueous crimson
washes us ashore
into the vacuity
of
SELF.

From here,
we are all rubes lost at
The Carnival of Man;
Lost in the Hall of Mirrors;
Lost in genetic stereotypes;
Lost in gender's false divisions.

Like mindless marionettes with painted faces,
we rejoin the mad dance of Conception
as narcotic life tempts us back;
As a temporary spider devours the Promethean fly;
As yet another Angel dies,
buried in the birth-pit of Man,
thrust whimpering into the cemetery womb,
then wailing for Death
to spin the Carousel
again.
 

~ Bud Evans (c) 2000 ~