Germbag at 40 (Herz)

 

I've little truck with astrology

But Venus Return smacked me round the gob -

Five cycles of eight years and where am I

When Circlestar stabs me at the root?

 

Here.

 

Germbag goes spastic with delight

In itself and with anyone else in reach

Gibbering and slobbering overdrive

Equipoise long sought lost in lusting

Kiss me, for I know not what I do.

 

Oh, but I do.

 

Consciousness: 40 Herz

Measure of evolution's last 2 million

Neocortex wrenching reptile and mammal

Animal shoved by enzyme into old old unchartedness.

 

So let's chart it.

 

Enzyme slams into enzyme

Shears virus clean to fling and replicate

Banging brainless into phytoplasm

Knocking spots off graceful alleles

That spit the dummy squealing

And scratch the membrane

Off every mitochondrion in reach.

Mitochondrion says "fuck this"

And chokes the nearest white blood cell,

Tearing off its helmet

And its head with it

And passing it back throught he crowd in triumph.

Spine goes apeshit and orders in the army -

Gallbladder in overproduction

Appendix wakes, hidden kraken -

And all of a sudden

There's white blood cells everywhere

Bayoneting everything in sight.

 

Kiss me, I've got 40 pieces of silver

Kiss me - shit, I'll hang myself!

By the ankles, upside down, so I can appear virile

I'm already nailed up here flapping in the wind for you

Flag wet but slowly drying out

As enzyme systems harden into dead bone

All my planets colliding hard

Systems belching and in overdrive collapse.

 

Come, kiss a bag of warring germs.

Come, kiss me.

Come.

 

                                                                                    1999

 

 

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