the making of...

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this is the making of
(the making of)
this poem. watch me now,
hands wringing with the inserts of time,
inked feet smiling so smugly - as cool

as an unwashed phrase.
eyes tickled by the tap
tap-tap of the ocean,
the crossed beginning

of toes,

of triumphant teeth, a melange
du jour in the body's movement.
watch me now, as I was then,
in the making of, in the "ness"
of me -- tribulations

of veins and vesseled
ingredients. the tap
tap-tap

of camouflage,

uncoloured dreams -- this is
the making of (the making of),
who says you can't eat your own cake?