Looking Glass Poem by gershon hepner

The world is like my belly, full of gases,
and wondrous and extremely weird;
I look it at through rosy looking glasses,
and wonder: should I trim my beard?

The world is round and space is curvilinear,
but I’m flat beer within a barrel,
and getting fatter––wish that I were skinnier,
and talented as Lewis Carroll.

The world is insignificant and like a palace
where no one says: “God save the Queen! ”
I think that I will change my name to Alice,
and go back to the Holocene.

2/4/01