A hornet fell out of the sky
"and I…."
I am sitting
watching it suffer
noting the smell
of bleach on the wind

In the oiled vat of sadness
Slip of the tongue
Whimpering in the not-moment
Lost the scent of you

Because…. because, because
Because because was, because is, because will
Maybe
Was is, will is, then now, you me
Probably

We only bathe on Thursday afternoons
That being the right time
To stand bare within the steam
To cast away the cloth of culture
To embellish our odors
and breathe, finally
Through our nostrils

We’re the last of an ancient order
Once bent on conquest
Now content
with Netflix

We stand upon patios
Critiquing America's backyards
Before we indulge
in *** and pool-hopping

I know there are more of us
In the cities and trash heaps
Yet the only two I’ve met
Are myself, and my love
We will leave this ******* Babylon
We will find our lost clansmen
We’ll search the libraries and graveyards
And reunite with our-selves

The big angry things sling vocal feces
Fleshy phallus-pumps close at hand, cooing
Guzzle guzzle ethanol
Inebriated petrol-baby
"Smash the atom!"
"We're too late, we're too late!"
Tar (quick) sand *****
Big angry things drown
"We gotta gotta drill!"
Penetrate the Mother with a steel ****
Oedipus laughs
As the boulder, finally
Crushes Sisyphus.

-   The irate Englishman berates his pupils for losing track of gods.

-   **Children of the Corn was originally written by James Frazier.

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