PROPHETS OF THE WILD/SNAKE AWAY (Poem)
Blades Of Grass Tickle Each Other And I'm Paralysed By Their Snickers By The Rustle Song Latched On To The Wind's Doodle Of A Back They Dance To Their Own Back And Forth Laughter An Ebb And Flow From Which I Learn I'm Not Alone In The Company They Preclude Amusement The Other Fellow Bloviates With The Silence As Do I Both Of Us, Smiling Pro Forma At Our Faite Accompli Both Of Us, Gung-Ho To Have Got The Dog Whistle Before Our Witty Wheaty Hosts Chucked And Chuckled The Apercu "There's A Monster Lurking About Lithe And Traversing The World On A Different Axis" Our Self Appointed Agent Provocateurs Burst At The Seams With Hysteria Beholden To The Cacophony And, Bespoke To Their Subjects We Both Run, From Guilt By Association Association By Guilt, From Both, We Run And From Each Other, We Are Associated By A Guilt The Guild That Yields, We Are Guilty Of Yielding Both The Guilt And The Yield Of Our First Kill