Consolation
This is me eventually There is comfort in the thought The slope I climbed is not a slope It is a boundless space flat without horizons Directionless, unencumbered I am here Writing old comfort on new pages
the boys and Nietzsche
there's boys and they love their Nietzsche their friend from the brittle yellow paperback they keep between the old mattress and the squeaking bed frame thus spoke, and boyish backs strengthen thus spoke, beyond good and evil beyond the province thus spoke, untimely many auroras have dawned behind the boyish ears countless Nietzsches countless bed ...
Prayer
My Savior is the Absurd That changes faster Than my prejudice I hold my heads up To brush the world's light With my eyelashes My Savior knows What it means to be finite Everything becomes high A trumpet grows out of my nose, Or a clarinet A tuba perhaps You really can't tell Other extremities ...
Flashback
In a nation far away once lived a sad dictator Called Bush, a brainless man, but a good debater He was surrounded by savage capitalists Who manipulated him cunningly like terrorists They told Bush exactly how he ought to act and soon turned off his tiny intellect Bush was a bit unhappy with this institution ...