who wins the skirmish when no one dies
clever old fool you managed to chain one
of the oldest deathless ones whose job was
death which screwed up the works since he
couldn’t work so how can we eat when
a week later the chicken’s head
still begs for grain it cannot store or how
do we please these greatest and most
fickle gods when a hundred perfect
oxen with golden horns embossed with blood
cannot take their rest and the sheep slipping
on its intestines tomorrow shakes its
head and bleats at you again and through the
night so you see the boulder was justice
Tag: grain
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What do we make of our song-free Orpheus
fumbling Odysseus almost Lucifer with
fingers of flame Perhaps he remembers the light
from that distant place and justice so a gift of
grain and cocoa for the amazing muses ofthe mountain top and the other women, dead
imprisoned tunneling, then old Ouranos grows
a pair and loses them and him in waves with no—
Though our Prometheus believes no one of theunderworld and darkens his face before they lie
about his friend not yet dead—they don’t get the joke
but the shadow brother did break the rule so thesea again and driving back half a Eurydice
reversed—so eyes forward or you’re back in it, baby.
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in a smear of ink but let’s play
Yahtzee so tired of all my
jokes but how much for
anyway turn off the hearings
and listen to my stomach
full of primordial
soup for a bluer sky when
we all have a moment
to floss again and plant
some grain or at least
some new suspicions