Where 
a = b 
= z & 
logos 
pinch 
through 
plants 
like clean-
freak 
beetles


We the 
frightened 
on roof
tops, 
the sub 
crumb, the 
fearsome 
planet   


Right 
now I 
guess 
you are 
going 
to snort 
lime 
Friday night, 
here, it is 
3000, 
and I 
could 
smash 
myself 
from 
sorrow
								

                                                    mustard plants have sloughed seeds into our satellites

                                                                       Lou & the cobra have no memory of India

                                         the lion wears a cotton apron & chops turnips with the lamb

                                                       everywhere tambourine coins melt loudly by loudly

                                                                                                         into that weird good





Maybe
He who 
calls 
things 
that are not 
as 
though 
they were 
has not 
called yet but


the
old 
floodstuffs  
have risen, 
toasted the home-sweet hideousness of the land


and they who
have hooves 
hammer
lamentations
through 
my mefirst, 
they kneel 
so softly 
down to pray in shivering prairies of bug-free hay		


***


and 
the giants 
of the 
fishtank-lit 
bedtime 
stories 
of 
this 
map-false 
earth
sleep 
so sleeplessly


(break 
your 
heart's oil 





He will 
come),						  


true. 
these creatures
blind 
glass canyons
with rum-
clouds 
of breath
but, whisper it: 
all night 
and 
all day
their mighty 
freezing arms 
comb 
moon-lit craplands


in search of a maker

						         
shit that 
they purr 
drunkenly 
as they ease 
their fists 
into 
Nebraska, 
into 
the many 	    					 


touchable 
noodles of 
hay there, 
because				                   
"It is finished." and


their numb 
bottoms 
remain 
in 
Flagstaff         		           	      			                 









but hallelujah that this happens 
under the stars of farms
whose children inchoir
through silver links 
rising like bubbles 
from the fields





          "fence. where is your sting?"


1. I tell you the truth, before Abraham was, I Am.


1. My name is Nathan, welcome to the Olive Garden,
 




here are a few 
things that I can 
never remember not to
live for, but did I mention 
I love you, I love you, I fear 
nothing but you you already know that: