who was it shot off the sphynx's 
nose? was it the turks? was it boni's 
gunners,  testing their range? 
or was it some unknown poet 

himself a critic of early egyptian 
literature under the rage of too 
much wine & too little recognition 
becoming himself a loose cannon 

saying see me see me see what I 
have done we need to be careful in 
our studies the mummy walks 
among us even as we sit here 

quietly discussing our poetry 


Akhenaton dreamed of the Athenian 
leader Pericles & Alexander the 
Great - he had visions & they 

drove him mad - he dreamed of 
the period between Constantine & 
Theodosius, & envisioned the pious 

Ostrogoth, Theodoric, who came to 
rule Rome with an iron fist - Akhe 
naton tossed & burned with the 

vision of St. Ambrose aflame with 
worldly concern - in a vision he 
saw the emperor John I being 

crowned king by the son of a 
singular god, Pope Gregory the 
Great watching in wonder between 

bouts of ecstasy - Akhenaton 
awoke but continued his dream - 
declared Aton the one true god 

from that time on only history 
honored his madness 


so many die some say it's as 
many as 100% yet we continue 
to try one thing after another 

even knowing we're going to 
fail fear of flying fear of eating 
a contaminated mango of dancing 

too close to the edge of falling so 
far so fast that we come apart why 
do we continue i suspect it has to 

do with the joy of breathing the 
joy of stealing one more kiss of 
eating one more chicken breast 

& the continuing dream of sailing 
effortless over the tops of trees 
one more time 


we ate soup & sandwiches william  & 
i had tuna betsy had chicken salad 
william sed eating tuna makes your 

semen taste weird i sed i had never 
tasted mine i lied of course i remember 
the penthouse variation story where 

the woman took the waiter from a 
sushi  restaurant home & blew him she 
sed his cum tasted like fish the whipped 

cream on my hot chocolate tasted 
like whipped cream betsy couldn't 
decide whether to finish her sandwich 

or not after eating we stood outside 
while betsy had a cigarette we talked 
about birthdays & stars even though 

we couldn't see any 

(c) 1998, by Jim Watson-Gove 

ZC Poetry Page