This is the poem that originally commemorated the TFMA placeholder page that sat on the Internet for far, far too long:
food for the library worms
and in sleep I hear their teeth, chattering,
empty, no things like beer-battered dreams
to rest between them.
their bellies rumble like lightning cannons in
the dark of sleeplessness upon
my bed. they whisper litanies and lies
in cubicle fluorescence. my ears echo
their choruses, coarse like bitter cloth
against the wound of a starving heart.
in the warped space of life
I find resignation, and bring them
lion-cakes and squirrel-jetties on plates
slick with grumbled greases
and oils from olives big as cities
and they eat, and eat, and eat.