THIS WEEK:

The Three Little Pigs like you've never seen them before!



Ilsa

I touch you with a lightbulb
like a pig farmer gone bad.
The corn suit with green wrinkles,

the beavers build a damn,
a hell, the carcass of an Indian
drifts by like the continents.

The spice trade finds Plato,
learned pupil of the Startled,
a toga with a rattle,

the Parthenon made of straw
by one of the farmer’s three little pigs,
an elevator of solid rock

rises and falls in the Acropolis.
Dumb Greeks have as many limbs
as their deadly spider.

You trip on the extension cord
and pull the plug on our love.
Your mouth is a big bad wolf.