to Karl Max Ostojic

Why do you stare at the little box 
That in her emptiness 
Holds the whole world 

If the little box holds 
The world in her emptiness 
Then the antiworld 
Holds the little box in its antihand 

Who'll bite off the antiworld's antihand 
And on that hand 
Five hundred antifingers 

Do you believe 
You'll bite it off 
With your thirty-two teeth 

Or are you waiting 
For the little box 
To fly into your mouth 

Is this why you are staring