when I ain't got time to shit
I got it made
like a fossil
like geography
when the bomb burns
my thankless ass away
this lump in my colon
might end up
the eye of a geode
an egg of onyx
or a diamond
such sweet revenge
to become a gem
perhaps to snuggle
in a nest of gold
on the finger
of a future kind
each gem and every fleck
of precious metal know
the hatred that I feel tonight
and cancer grows in those
who wear the jewelry
in which the pure
and mindless anger
of every man who died
without time to shit
shines more brightly
than beauty or love
from Disturbances, Ahsahta Press, Boise State University, 1990.