Undressed man, halfway out
of his existence, flossing
by a trash can.
Knobs of being
that stare through him.
Long fuzzy hairs
holding him to culture--
just more nature.
The well-oiled door
under a bright moon.
No pattern at his heel
anymore, departure through
return to the body.
The last riddle laughing
with a porcupine in his hands.
Rainbow of flattened bodies
a clay path that carries
his prints, her unyielding claws.
The cage of the body pluralized
by personae, stretched over time
like a chain.  Needle hooks
in the lines and outward pockets
that foretell nothing.