Ideas Do Not Have Consequences

I remember this time in undergrad
I had just left English class
Post-colonial lit or some other ridiculous thing like that
and these two post-hipster chicks with tattoos and androgyny
were talking about their new vision
Life without labels
Where beauty wouldn’t have to have the burden of shape, form, symmetry, and such
but could just be
Just be, yeah that’s it. [...]

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The Dead God (or Imaginative Carousing Gone a’ Rye)

Nietzsche taught us to give up everything for ourselves.
Leave wife, child, mother, and father.
We must get out from under this law.
It can only enslave.
We must be raised above it all.
We must.
The Germans had heard this sort of thing before
of course
this will to power
to overcome the bondage.
Luther said the same.
Only Martin had one up on Freddy, [...]

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A High Priestly Dialectic

I sat outside reading Breakfast of Champions on the RTS picnic table.
Three gunshots sounded close by.
They were deeper and closer together
than usual.
So far the book is highly inappropriate.
I keep reading it though
because I’ve always fancied myself inappropriate,
though I’m not.
Well, at least not like this.
 
The author of the book is known for writing science fiction stories [...]

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Death of god

Hippasus heralded the end of infinity.

The Pythagorians had discovered the way
to the essence,
to the divine.
Temples of the great pyramid
(the three in one)
pointed to the higher way.

Vegetables and music,
sweet symphony,
strict liturgy,
proclaimed the symmetry
ever blessed.

And thus they were in no mood
for dissent.

The ocean of chaos
gobbled
the numbers of death,
saving the return
forever.

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The Prostitute in the Library

I’d seen her before at the gas station
by the interstate. It was late and the neighborhood is so bad,
but I just didn’t think my truck would make it across town.
She was, um, working
outside and I thought to myself,
“Really? In Jackson, MS?
Here?
Wow,” as I quickly walked into the store
looking the other way.
I’d also seen [...]

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Seminar I: Margaritas and Hamlet

Jimmy Buffett’s sponge cake
still stuck
to Dr. Barry’s shades as he venerated
Shakespeare’s timeless Tarantino flicks
and middle-aged beach tunes.
Show me
Mon
o
sy
llab
ic,
he said.
You just can’t beat old Bill.
The shrimp spurt on the grill
as our homework flamed high.

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