Will de Kypia

                                A BLESSING

                       In praise of promiscuity

Bless the false lovers, bless and protect them,

those who rise up in heat, lie down in lust,

then coldly uncouple in guilt and disgust.

May they cast off judgment along with their

garments lest they realize that the carnal carnival

is but one night of sport preceding a perpetual Lent.

Domesticate passions, temper ecstasy,

avert their eyes when they dress so

the pain of parting might be less.

Bless the false lovers, modestly and briefly.

                       MENUS FOR OUR KIND

                             In praise of omelets

Consider the leopard, a carnivore.

She eats raw meat, no mango muck for her.

Chases gazelle across the desert and feasts.

Be you like her a beast. 

Or eat nothing more wicked than the mildest

sins of children, nothing coarser than the souls

of angels, nothing less pure than nothing at all.

But never desecrate the flesh of Mother Earth.

Rend not with horrid implement her bearded fig, her

lush honeydews. Ape neither ghouls who raise armies

of maize to die like golden warriors, nor those brutes

who with phallic pestle and vulvar mortar grind to dust

innocent herbs and even the most blameless of spices.


Alone in his kitchen a breatharian slices tomatoes,

slices them very thin. He licks the juice from the blade,

dumps the cuttings onto the compost heap with yesterday's.

The breatharian grieves for bees who are inhumanly hived.

Yearns to devour the sun's nourishing rays with his green

skin or to imbibe immaculate sustenance from the air.

He will die a scowling rictus in a hard winter.


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