THAT FEEDS
BECOME
THE HANDS THAT FEEDS
behold new light a
Transfixing prism
Art thou too
Without thine yarbles
Come then thy pithy
Eunuch thou
That thou that been made castrated
By the abundance of life's full cruelty
That ye would not act with will but instead
Lay hovellous with no power
For at least with lair there bust be
Creating
Sexual mingling of ideas within
That I birth as art
I mother
I father
I eternal child in awe of the universe and scope
Humbled by the leading trail
Of my own disorder
Humbled by my own
Confusion
But not yet without my yarbles
COME THEN THY JELLY GROIN ADVERSITY
I INSULT YOU
I BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS
LET US SEE THY BEATING BREAST OF RYTHYM TO REALITY
LET US SEE THY LITHE TREAD
LET US SEE IF YOUR SEXLESS HEARTH
CAN YET RAISE
A FETCHING DUEL
