Lucretius grabbed my arm and lead me
to the spot where he went nuts. I watered little
drums right away and entangled the Sava River
with knitting needles. I putrefied a small soup,
dismembered seven towels. There, He — The
Terrible — burnt on the stake, squatted, too.
My god, I beat him up his ass. Puff, puff, but
no one had heard a thing. Now here, I’m flooded
with flowers by cumin. Even Tarkovsky appears.
Now I will suck you with my thumbs, mold
you like clay with my horns, till he’d vaporize and
see into what and where I’ve traveled to. Into
honor. Into white birch trees. Into the pouch
used for bread. I hung around the world a lot,
frothily crushing the mountain range. With no
avail, with no day’s pay, sticky are my laws.
I protected an elephant as much as I could,
stared at the back of the horse. Joshed the others
now, too, tested spring mattresses. Kept
gulping nirvana. Loosened feathery leaves,
wrapped the emperor into a roll. To not let my
senses perish, to gallop without a break.