Jan Sand Biography

Split me in two
And spread the gash.
There, between the pillows
Of my lungs, tangled
...

My floor is littered
With corpses.
The older they get,
The more they stink.
...

Let's bake a cake for a snake,
Fill our jeans with jellybeans,
Comb our hair with a rake,
Paint our ears with blues and greens.
...

There is a morning fog here
That rises from the snow
To inhabit head-tall space
In a lightless glow.
...

There was an old man who was lonely and grim
And excessively technically minded.
He lived with a cat and an owl that was fat
And a fancy new clock. He=d designed it.
...