I'm currently enjoying a book of poetry by Yusef Komunyakaa titled "Talking Dirty to the Gods." I'm not sure there's a way to accurately describe YK's poems. They're vivid, riddled with allusions and wry humor, subtly unnerving, subversive and surreal. And, as all good poems do, they seem inevitable.

Here's one of my favorites:

Ode to the Maggot

Brother of the blowfly
& godhead, you work magic
Over battlefields,
In slabs of bad pork

& flophouses. Yes, you
Go to the root of all things.
You are sound & mathematical.
Jesus Christ, you're merciless

With the truth. Ontological & lustrous,
You cast spells on beggars & kings
Behind the stone door of Caesar's tomb
Or split trench in a field of ragweed.

No decree or creed can outlaw you
As you take every living thing apart. Little
Master of earth, no one gets to heaven
Without going through you first.