bat thee, bay thee,
wha' tub in plaid skins
to milk thin rigs
which pout and pudawdle
the quai-long-chain-of
braidlings, and their upsbrot.
hups brot? whops frot?
how shape thee eternal froth
to shine like a chin
babpulsy in broth,
O wild chilis
a donkey nibbles
in moonlight.
O Gondwana!
Where sleek Andrewsarchus roared
under old stone
like bleak candy, blue from weird algae
and stanky.
O devil parasititical wasp thing
interrupting my bud, O history
of INSECT GALL!
oh lemon claw,
thing which is ugly
and smells nice
to a mudchap
in a clinktrap
with a bat head
with a dead letter.
Fossils are memory files.
And Nature was largely already
a computer.
What exactly was wrong with the first
3 or 4 Billion years of gnashing and fucking
and eating and fighting?
Everything!
Would be the correct answer
I'm sure.
Lemuramoeba.
Lemuramoeba.
Lemuramoeba.
Lemuramoeba.
Lemuramoeba.
Lemuramoeba.
I could make you a funny felt hideaway
for your sissy chittering shrewdles.
Pancho.
Pancho Villa
and the Camels.
