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Circle Jerk


by Samuel Derrick Rosen


THIS MIGHT BE TOO ABSTRACT,
abstraction has its faults.
Struck delirious
by tongue lashings,
mouths that speak like they are different
but are all the fucking same.
Going to stick my feet
in a basin of cold water, wait
for the second coming.
What resists the dance?
The amazingly maniacal.
Quid pro co.
Don't blame me.  Everything swims
in the pariah's limbic pot.  Should I submit
to the music of the whores?
Should I pay attention
to the milkings of thy goat?  Yes?  No?
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