Honi soit qui mal y pense

who hears the whir
of the gentle snake
caught by its tail
in the willow twig

who hears the song
of the forking branch

what bough is broken

hive mind

~and with singing snake
around the coil (the bel
her garter never looked so
even (nevus

\sur-vin;

even after the disparaging child
had left the room (its scent prevailed
and even the old songs
to the mysterious gods (were somehow
tainted

because the shape of the horrible
child seemed so readily
to match
certain features
of the venerable old sophisms
of the long dead
and mysterious
progenitors

just as the spinning wheel in the sky
whose spokes or rays
either judge or judged against judgement
as a judgement
were singing snakes
the song of the forking branch

the suave honey
in which the terrible monkeys
have drowned

so that we poor worms
will live to explore
its emblem