hard at work pissing in the snow fields of Orleans while watching the Bronte sister's swimming in the altogether

 
 
I picked flowers of
Armageddon from
the teeth of  
Khrushchev
 
pissed in the snows
fields of Orleans
while Joan battled
the flames
 
gave birth to the  
dead idea of  
love
 
counted the minutes
marching towards
the darkness like
ants swarming a
decayed
picnic
 
gathered the tongues  
of the holy in my arms  
before speaking  
with the  
devil
 
made love to the
Bronte sister's
in the pages of
their books
 
formed the first
thought in my
head into a  
statute of  
Medea
 
invited God to
dinner at some
dive greasy
spoon off
route 66 in
the year 1959
 
and invented the
word poetry to
console fools
 
all the while  
brushing my
teeth with wine
poured from the  
bladder of Bacchus
 
catch as catch can
 
the ass of the world
is finally showing
itself
 
walk away
now
 
before
 it's too
         late