O, rain your sparkle down on me
For we have flogged the glitter horse dead.
There it lies rotting—a meal for worms—
A monticule of monstrous greed & desire.
So celebrate & canker me this, old man:
Where do we go from here?
How could we possibly be here (of all places)?
As part of this dead beast—a chimera at best—
As the world continues to hemorrhage about us.
& we Slim Pickens the missile to oblivion
“This morning opening the papers I caught a whiff of evils to come.”
— Charles Simic / The Monster Loves His Labyrinth