A Thousand Spleened Suns

A thousand spleened suns
Could not turn off the barking
The fleas themselves were all afire
And i scratched till blood
Matted the hairs of my scalp
It was a wineglass victory
A headless triumph
It was graeco-roman alchemy on the Nile
I was a Jack Lindsey joint
In a Spike Lee monograph
And it meant absolutely nothing at all
It was just one thing after another and then
One damn thing after another
From this coign i see swifts and hawks
Stone chimneys and towers and slate roofs
And a broad and distant hill cut with roads
And patches of pastures where prize bulls
Browse and look self-satisfied as only
A sperm factory can be
My stud days are done
Cut short by the surgeon’s knife
And though it hurt a bit
It put me in a greener pasture
Than the worried one i was working
Bulls don’t feed their young
But i do