In a wounded world
the sparrow has his home
the swallow finds a nest for
her young

The age of direct assertion
makes most in its path
yield
but man,
man has nowhere 
to lay his head

Cut this Stone into my Sword

Passages from antiquity

cut into my stone

from Plautus to Macrobius

America is a harlot -

you can always go back to her /

a harlot who revels 

brash & profane

A theological excursion

into the righteousness of death

jazz is a fatuous, drunken slur

Until Monk shows up.

in a second the women will

be letting wail 

gales of woe

Americans clap so easily 

they're as low as dogs

that's not to say there's no dignity

its just Enshrined everywhere 

Then there is the shame they must feel

that they didn't do the whole hog, and 

just go completely feral.

For real, man

flashes of steel

flesh of my flesh, 

Oh poverty, like
the people of old

Ramshackle, fecund

Confeds in the attic,

Trotsky in the shed..

and you were just
'musing around' the met on 

Monday in the Renaissance rooms.

It isn't my calling
to engage with
skeletal shellsuited
bottom feeders
Especially not
to feed on them myself.

Insectoids are
the new Morlock-feed
Is it not then also asinine to contemplate
consuming lobster ?

drunken flesh seeking soiree

All the flesh
all the desire
in the fire

Cauldron of the Gods
below
processed meat
ruthless simplicity
grease for cat's whiskers

stem steam sturm

my laughter stems from
raw failings
my ranting and railing
steams from
overwrought pistons

I've come to the conclusion that the only thing
that truly honors the feminine is the Catholic Church,
via the Virgin cult and that this is the sole genius of the west.