to Karl Max Ostojic
Why do you stare at the little box
That in her emptiness
Holds the whole world
If the little box holds
The world in her emptiness
Then the antiworld
Holds the little box in its antihand
Who'll bite off the antiworld's antihand
And on that hand
Five hundred antifingers
Do you believe
You'll bite it off
With your thirty-two teeth
Or are you waiting
For the little box
To fly into your mouth
Is this why you are staring
