The Beginning of Something

I'm not sure what, but here you are:

perhaps, i have heard, through Earthworn Ears, that

Hevon and Hell nest radioed in our minds

ha! sakred clowds of Eternity, fit in our skulls?

does this Wyrd resonate in your brain pillows? “Eternity?”

no! it cannot! it cannot! do not lie to your Swete Senses

our automaton senses clockwork configured for planetary geograffi

i thought once our hedds (our little squash-hedds!) were dore-ways

that Infinity lurked halo-hedded behind our eyeballs

this is not so! It cannot be, Fathers, whose teeths once hath birthed Great Truths

my hedd is just a sparkling slab of meat, with geens encoded—like quartz!

geens; they are interesting Things, yea! but not Infinity!

i do not think. i do not think. i do not know! Gah! Gah!

make these questions cease, this anesthetic sting

this mortal hurte, eternal migraine

throbbing dull, echoeing dizzily (absently) painful in

the communities of spiritts living in my bone marrow

i write poetries speaking of eternity, yea!

what else is there to write poetries of? flours? revolution?

sexx? freedum? ha! ‘love?’ hate? evil? goode?

let me kiss a whispered secret in your awful little ear:

this black is the stuffs that our bones are made of

and our eyes, and snaking blud vessels, and skyn

our cocks and vaginals and stomach bags

our indignant harts and sinewy Brain-matter

and even our visions of Soul, spectral blankets somewhere

are made of the black

black is made of the black

and white
the sun
and moon
and god
black
black
black