When playing with yourself                becomes your       self
        & there aren’t enough           razors             in the medicine chest

to manscape your world    into    highways    &   bi     ways
            yes, the eagle has landed           but no            this is not a leap

for mankind       on to a lunar landscape       of love        this is
          the cult of         one mirror & you           as history blushes with

ecstasy’s shame      & the rain forest       burns        between your legs
         as your boa       constricts            for the third time      today
                      in this          your most global        hour.

Daniel Edward Moore lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. He has poems forthcoming in Weber Review, The Cape Rock, KestrelRed Earth Review, RipRap, The Timberline Review, River Heron ReviewPassages North, The Tipton Poetry Journal, Passengers JournalThe Night Heron Barks, and Sweet Tree Review. He is the author of two chapbooks, Confessions of a Pentecostal Buddhist (CreateSpace) and Boys (Duck Lake Books). Waxing the Dents is a full length collection from Brick Road Poetry Press. Visit him at