A FRIVOLOUS POEM

Furious idiots come over the meek hills
like a wedding party on stilts
clamoring to make their money
devour more money

Hills that have eaten more space and time
than her body has
hills mounting from the riverbanks
not to envelope anybody
not even to be
are overlapping
convexing they decline
toward roads that wither out
at the foot of a mountain
a force that is nobody's mother
a water running deeper
than any god-theory can go
nonetheless runs out
and is replaced
by an energy so vast
it needn't rise to the casual

Gesture without thought
to the blood that runs me
ache in your womb
for the bones that are craft and nothingness
within me
to be built again
in teething miniature
and I'll refuse with a knife in the morning
refuse with the clapping of certain librarian twats
whose hands pour urgent coffee
down the back of my neck
while my homeless doppelganger
paws a computer

The river is certainly eating your shit
but it will eat more and more
than you can ever shit
you have a couch on your tongue
if you do not learn the strength that resides
in currents of speechlessness now
you may meet me wherever
homo sapiens do thoughtless things
and expect to be paid handsomely for them
and I will not even bother to show up
to beat you with a rake, a lawn blade whirling,
a drag queen's wig flown off by rubber bullets
and the battle that takes place
in your skull addled thrice
by the place which I am modernly leaving.