
EMPIRE OF THE ANTS


WOLF
a wolf stopped me
on the way
to Red Riding Hood
redirected me
confiscated my
wolfsbane
showed me a flag
red as menstrual blood
told me
he hoped I would not
be seeing anything. socialist
or revolutionary in it
bemoaned the fact
that everything today
gets cloaked,
gets camouflaged
hides
in sheep’s clothing
gave me
a quick Turing Test
seemed
to be satisfied
since
provided me with a link
to his You Tube video
in which
he laments
the theft of
his mythology
both as regard little pigs
and nubiles in
big teeth
non-
Grandmother
vermillion underwear
and set up, a trap
if ever
he saw one
real Roald Dahl, pure
imagination
slipping on a cave boat ride
into avant-gard horror
(no tunnel of love
episode this
too Dali to
delight us
and so he complained
and so he raged
fancying me as meal
and me fancying
a chic wolf skin
proving my parents wrong
when drumming in
talk with strangers means
Moors murders
and for writers hesitating on
their first rung
no hope
for turning
type into
character
and tale to tell
that talks old tropes
the trick being
one of mesmerizing


WON
leaves us
for dead
the speed
at which
you think
jumping from
premise to conclusion
faster than
agitated light
from idea
to idea by
sublime association
faster than the feed
in a multi-
barrel machine-gun
thus do we see
logic quickly conquered,
every argument won