Do I Dare Disturb the Universe? asks Scott Bailey

Wee-wee-sweet-pea me, I live, I weep, a third of me passed in sleep, start a scene or two, play and dance the

   fool,

roll back the curtain for the muse, I live for depth, less so a lengthy life, nor deny the natural order of   things,

but must I be swept so soon to the sweet by and by, life’s always so, so pleasing, so why should death be so   

    displeasing?

 O Death, so kind, so cruel, graciously unfair, such a trump card, such a trollop, common denominator, master

   and servant to class,   

 O Life, to live, to be a rare steak, why just exist, that’s not it at all, not at all, to the point of tears, get-up-

   and-go, oomph, brio, orbit,

 yo-yo, strut, fret, fetch, keep the wolf from the door, scratch where it itches, pull some nothing from thin air,

   rush, stir, trip, wear and tear, bounce, zip,

 I walk upon the earth, spared another day, another hour upon the stage, a motor with a plan, I am man, homo,

   member, party,

 I bust a nut, kick, yield, recording my days, intent, tone, heart, spirit, a life sentence, no shame, no game,

 I question, seek, shall not always find, I backup on a dead-end road, look up, look down upon,

 sympathize with an ant carrying a wing over mountainous mud, dirt, scum, I waste time, murder, create,

   anticipate,

                                 stub my toe where I come and go, O, O, O, O, 

            O, Sticky-Sweet Peach, come home, pull up a chair, cast a spell on my chinny-chin chin,

I'd  rather be cross-eyed—one eye that says shit to the other—than not see at all, cut out my tongue if not

   cheeky—Superbe! Magnifique!—

if I’m to be a ragged claw, cantankerous, impermeable membrane, a closed field with shards of glass among

   blades of grass,

reflecting the moon’s hollow woe, I rather be be-headed, served on a platter, if denied a full head of hair,

   fingers run through my hair,

       O, Open Field, measureless, perpetual uncertainty, dance with me under the honky moonlight, in broad

   daylight,

do me roughly half a day but all night long, in the quickening of the night, the quiet, quite-loud night,

owls echoing dactyls and spondees, thrashers tweeting thank-you’s,

bump me, I bump back, atqui vivere militare est, la petite mort, each day, s'il vous plait,

 I will not end it all on a railroad, take a colossal heroine-hit, kneel on grits, slip on soap, eat poisonous, cherry

   pie, Amen, thunderous whisper.