picket a gape, perpetually despairing,
beneath a thousand-yard stare
(as if requisite, bad hair);
Bulbous nose--Satan's choice!
blame it for the toad-fart voice
(Yes it must be Lucifer;
for what divine engineer
puts a head this heavy on a neck this austere?);
With pock-marked skin
and gap-toothed grin
(granted, a not-bad chin):
one mediocre specimen!
His malformed charm,
his fellowship too,
draw only the alarm
such desperate figures are due;
(silence insulates he from you)
And through that silence he says:
alive, still, no less than you...
Self-Portrait, August 2o11