Delux Crux Dilemma (Incomplete)
uncoiling ylang-ylang boomerang—
newly annointed hands and feet smell sweet;
disjointed thrusts of music like fresh-hewn
fronds, wave at an abstract craving for donkey—
death. mishmoshed messages: kisses for coins,
crowing cocks, ravishment, abandonment;
an easter feaster masticating lamb.
tonight: the great I Am, a bleating ram.
paradise, or a pair of dice? think twice
on vice as wisemen continue to tell
of the banal bawd born in the vacant
hotel room which belonged to the bride-groom
and his party, not three days ago, where
judas declared the poor were worth more than
perfume (to much dissent) , so no surprise
he began to resent superfluous
sacrifice. I danced on—the sky turned black—
hard to dance with the devil on my back—
especially if you are blind, resigned
to the fatal tedium of a dream
with a mind of its own—you might begin
to suspect a flatulent sum could soothe
the dismantlement of expectation.
but it doesn't. smoke incriminates heat.
vaporous gyrations above flax fields—
effluvia in flux: effervescent vibrations
of nascent conflagrance obscure wieldy
scores of disintegrated disciples
hanging out in the desert—befriending
buzzards, these wonky belligerent birds.
they know the power of circling, so
I almost trust them. blatant carnivores,
augurers are better than most prophets
(though all base the future on today's shit):
to them, past tense is an extravagance
made mysterious by its lingering
absence. fill the void with mud or feathers:
you get to decide what you will reside
in and how it weathers, if deserted.
and I must say: betrayal, never fun.
start looking for a place to run if you're
denied three times by an anxious loved one.
she walked the tomb as if it were a womb
after an abortion: 'thinking, no one
should have been able to get in & the
body was not ready to be removed…'