across mountains of infamy
pompey oozed his way down
the port like chèvre, the
screeching miles behind him.
he wanted to be alexander
the great, just like all men in
his position. in 1999 everything
was blue, and before that grey,
and somewhere in between a few
communists painted themselves green
and now we have vesuvius.
now we have the arctic ice
sheets falling into the ocean,
now we have machines that
turn root vegetables to liquid.
alchemy was never one of
pompey's strong suits, and for
this caesar mocked him
outside every bodega in lower
manhattan. a fine servant of
pythagoras was he, and his
feminine ability of transmutation
unparalleled among his contemporaries.
build tributaries for gravity.
don't let this world, with its
smug disapproval of tesla & reich
demand a full fledged eclipse
of your hair, the arterial extension
of your crown chakra. many
avian predators will create
ripples in your hyperspace
continuum, remember the myth
of gravity at times like this.
vladimir lenin was able to
come to terms with his reptilian
heritage, right there in st. petersberg,
right there in burma, right there
in pontus, right there in zaire.
why would a maple leaf constricting
a tail light bring forth a civil war
in archaic rome or egypt? as pompey
felt the velcro snap from his
spine when the swords went in, he
cried the same words that caesar
would a few years later. he said
"i gave your father my finest figs &
cheeses & you betray a guest at your
own psytrance party?" the nile
flooded low that season, but across the
sea in sicily the lasagna piled high.