Friday, January 23, 2009

Punning on the Apocalypse

for Adam Hurtz

It's a mouth disease. On both your houses.
Divided against itself, the mouth
opens and what is inside

we have known from antiquity
is abhorrent or at least
dentata. The apocolypse is a kind

horse, or four, or simply
rides one for pleasure. It will come
no matter how fast we go or slow

or harder. Locusts will collect
in a certain place called
the locus. The road missed meets

another perpendicular. Does not continue
The apocalypse is a stopped-up dharma--
what we mean to swallow does not manifest

in our ends. We grow fat
because we hoard. I'm talking Babylonian
proportions, here. Astounding really.

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