The nuanced global metrosexuality
of the NYT,
the progressive patrician narcissism
of New Yorker,
The dark democratic dying
of the Washington Post,
the salty smugness
of Atlantic,
the effete unstrung irrelevance
of Harper’s—
Newsweek, Time,
even Life itself:
These are passing away.
In the garden of earthly delights
A disturbing assortment of sights;
From sublime… to more ominous,
Holy Hieronymous
Painted abysses and heights.
Lay of the Knaked Knight
Revealed beneath her seventh veil:
A poem on her ass in Braille.
My fingertips caressed that verse
And read her lyric universe.
An astral plane of swelling curves:
Her lyre well-strung to calm my nerves.
My lovely muse! All lettered charms
Grow warm in her angelic arms.
Her noble face, her tawny cheeks
Bestow the balm my spirit seeks.
Bright thoughts arise, and glowing, pass
Upon the volume of her ass.
The chicken coop unmanned, adrift at sea
Rolls aimlessly upon hormonal swells.
Her crew, well-versed in gynecology
Repaint in pink dull feminism’s hells.
Such lunacy as ovulates their womb
Impels them now to celebrate our doom.
First freed from God, then finally, from men,
The silly sailors, decked like women’s parts
Scold gender’s greater half, like hens, and then
Cluck on, devoid of biologic arts;
Useless fowl, squawking fit to neuter us
Who dare exist without a uterus.
CONNECT/HOOK 