On answering the question: “What super-powers would I want for my poems?”

~ qbit 
Incorruptibility of the flesh for one –
roll back the rock from Golgotha 
and I walk free
in my Dolce & Gabbana shades
and lime green Crocs –
resurrection of the flash.

Poems that smash atoms
into quarks of up, down, 
crushed pistachio, and almond –
sub-atomic food particles 
washed from my teeth
by a Waterpik™ stream of words.

Then Reign of Terror poems –
potato peeler Guillotines –
OK, sure, bad bad bad, 
but also some tasty french fries 
and stanzas
from all that chopping.

Would I trade all that
for practical poems that walk the dogs 
in the cold rain like today?
Or smell like my love
in warm sheets, with coffee brewing
just now in the kitchen?

No, no mild-mannered 
Clark Kent poems. Instead – 
like inhaling Popeye's spinach –
Aztec gods that down Habanero peppers,
breathe out fire and snakes
and volcanoes.

For Desperate Poets

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