Frantic poems like sprayed cockroaches
Emerge from the fissures of my Brain:
Bugs obsesses with airing themselves
Scurrying forth to escape poison fumes
Insidiously creeping
Into former nooks of respite
Now knowing no rest, no peace
But this ceaseless pencil scratching.
And still these insect images–
Primitive, atavistic
Intruders of worthy parlors–
Serve to rescue me, revive me:
Grubs and maggots can sustain
With their vile uncouth proteins