big world news, yet the persisting small world affair.

and what did that cat made me do?
**** in the garden
    on the spot where my castrated
pedigree was bothered about...

    and i could almost believe the conspiracy
theorists: on the ground that
(a) america wanted to retain its cultural
    relevance... and
   (b) that one the towers didn't fall...

              but then again who am i to say
that *if it was a ****-poor job,
        considering: call me mad...
   worth citing a certain book that talks
about two beasts -
                and how: all poets could succumb
to the stash of metaphors lodged in it...

              whether or not through furore?
and then couple two forms of intoxication,
whether in a church or in an asylum -
               most certainly at the Bataclan theatre:
after all - you have to be a lunatic to
fight with those hailing from under
                              the banner of the moon.

not from under the banner of the eagle blinded
by the sun -
         but from under the banner of
       the elephant eased to sleep by the sun:

for if there is a crypto-currency:
          why can't there be a reversion into
   cipher - throughout this medium we call poetry?
leaving behind those: who really have to
   posit defining: regressive politics...
        minor inconsistency of what was once
rhetoric becoming the art of: digression -
     because isn't the principle of trans-gender
a form of digression?
             and if it isn't? bring the dodo out.