I think I'll signal guru Bob
that I've had quite enough
of his implicit stress therapy as he calls it
I've contacted the hunchback ***** banks
for a safe deposit box until I bolt the ashram
with the last flood of disobedience
guru Bob waves his signing stumps
and I go nuts trying to figure out
the message behind the message
which was whatever happens
keep this out of the tabloids
I threw the Studebaker into reverse
and scorched the tires upstate
in order to stop the madness
of hope divided by exctly zero
as the horizon failed to recede
or vice versa being we were in reverse
years from now forensic miners
will stumble upon these passages
and be unsure if this is the he or
the he behind the he somewhat
unable to repair the scrap heap damage
after having been repeatedly ***** trained
by wrecking yard executives with cutting torches
fat as spring worms free like sniffing hyenas
fortunately sugar appears to be universally pleasing
and bought me some time to think
have we gotten to the topology segment
what's wrong with a philosophy of surface
hi what's your sign I'm a capricornucopia
delusion A against delusion B
a cosmic food chain of ransoming angels
I'm just trying my best to avoid
the hell words like cooked and eaten
cooking with Rosetta Stone
eating with zealots and lynch mobs
in the how wide can you talk contest
where the taboo behind the taboo
reverses us to Black Plague status
and the subsequent Violet Plague too
where clouds of flies lurk in church doorways
their buzzing can be infinitely instructive
even if it's the last thing you hear
with a flat rock for a pillow
bless my clumsy adolescence Bob
rosy dawn into evening's umber

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon