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: