eddie mount | not far from the monkey's cage…

Not far from the monkey’s cage

Men become monster
Wearing cape and cowl
Chopping up wooden Indian
Hurling into the cosmic stew
Flesh grenade and invisible violence
Tough condom and glittering massacre
Wild boar and fierce salad

The tin plated calf
Fornicates with the part time virgin
Priestly processions
Scream from Babel
Muted by soft snow
“To lose is to win
To live means to die
To have not is to have”

Wearing beards of menstruated blood
Eat Negroes
And pick their teeth
Coon dog pricks

There are howls
And laughter

I barricade my window
With long dead words
And the summoned bones
Of …

I can no longer remember

Everything has been pasteurized
Words have lost the fire
They now hum in microwave ovens
Wrapped in fake magic
Pitiless in their cheap clarity

Exorcist perform ancient rites
On the last Poet of the world
Skin flayed and stretched
Becoming an Ipod screen
Beeping trivial words
To a long dead Mother
Who disavows its creation
“Yours was a seed best dribbled
Down my thigh”

Truth scrapes across the silence of the world

The monkey smiles
And Babel never sleeps

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