I admit pleasure in jealous perversity
Similar to unforced, yet reluctant trysts,
In Schumpterian avid destructions
of the smartest plans, the beloved
institution destroyed. Insiders weeping.
The two-fold universe Eliade-perennial
interpenetrates like overlapped parenthesis
of need-want nee want-love. Open to
The Goldbarthian war, the Ichabod slouched beast
and boyhood whore. Welcome all saints as
scarlet as bad girls wearing Saint Lucy white
so to avoid the slap fall of hard whippings
whipped with spoons, with hair brushes,
with plastered lath. Help me, the beatings bought
me lust creative. The new and the old sins be
washed away. Every beating I received so
richly deserved and hard fought. Dread and fearsome
captives like sand, like small slippered fish in seine.
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