I am kickdrum and layman.
I am cancerous: a disastrous
beauty mark. I’m multiplying
Mandelbrots through a sieve of errors,
devil-may-care. In the abyss
infinite jest, garrulous with silence.
from battering through prison walls
I’m inverse and contrarian.
on a crow’s wing, wringing
for Coyote’s trickster tactics.
I am gutter and howl, cutter
is hinged like a snake’s.
you’d do well to steer clear,
better still, follow in my wake.
I’m the slayer of Armageddon,
the murderer of the apocalypse. When I meditate,
a dragon leaps from the cup of my neck.
I catch it with my teeth.
Such a bloody, bloody thing,
clipping yokes the size of culture
I’m treason and dissimulation.
I’m crossroads. I’m the long road
winding through the green guts of God,
subsuming all paths, usurping all thrones.
My mouth is the past, my tongue
is the next generation laughing
despite you, and in spite of your
I am Dionysus in the throes
of vivisection. I am a Disaster Shaman
riding a pale green horse named Providence.
The four horsemen are eating my dust.
My soul is flapping behind me
like a cape. My right hand a red herring.
I am counting coup. I am in the throes
of burning down unsustainable cities
and planting gardens in the ashes.
I will stick to you like molasses.
I’m your inner-child’s temper-tantrum
kicking you in the shins.
I am your means-to-an-end