Poetical Disputes

all this argy-bargy over words--
it's too much, really--the
shaft-spears thrown across
list-servs at mild-mannered academics,
blue eyes floating in the milky puss
above his fine-knit sweater
as he protests--
no, that is not what I meant,
atall, atall
in an attempt to pacify the
lion man with his
sharp-toothed replies, his
glassy eyes bright after
their firing, white-hot liquid,
boiled sandgrains to these
cracks and chips of color
wreathed around the inky pupil,
a deep well, a black hole

the stars still pock the sky,
the sun still burns over the desert