July 18, 2011 – Quit making Masonic Hand Gestures at the Potato Salad

Those five relentless hydra heads that glut,
that gorge, that ravage all the world and shriek
for more, want out – out of in; out to seek
to fill an appetite for hunger. But
they only snap at shadow prey, for what
goes in can taste of out no longer. Meek
are they without the mind that binds them – weak
like fistless fingers. Were they ever cut
adrift to search without the means to clutch,
then in and out would stagger through. Detached
thoughts like advancing pawns would leap and when
the play’s completed leave the board. The touch
before that thought from whence the game is hatched
feels nothing like the reach of out or in.