Uncle Climax:
MIRACLE -
"To aim to convert a man by miracles is a profanation of the soul." - Ralph Waldo Emerson: Nature


the thing came up out of the ground
uproarious audacious prideful
a head dressed in angelwing feathers
a body that sits on the tongue
and dissolves in the presence of saliva

the wings were pruned
preened
prickly
and obscene
to the commonman

shone
little glints
tiny millions offshooting from a bigbang of light
out of dark deep mantle earth
sliding slithering corpus
its wings for show
its body a buffer
its tail wrapped the sky
around the azure bubble
the long white ethereal tentacle explicated its own grace
smirking, using the mere sky as a backdrop to the spectacle

it granted clemency
gained strength with every set of eyes that witnessed and believed in the same instantaneity of glance
and enveloped usurped and threw away titles and epithets
swarming the earth as if a trillion tiny gnats
gadflies jerking into and out of noses ears eyes mouths
until all men recognized its mass
its sheer elegance
its unfuckwitablitity
because its propensity for provoking souls to see power within transformed profundity to profanity in a reflex


i enjoy long night walks on pacific oceans
wearing moonbeam slippers
tussling with tidal waves
replacing current events with currents
purging spirits
sincerity gauging
placing pedestals on pedastals just so they can measure up to me
racing with the sun to see
who can praise who, extol the other's virtue to the greater degree
hereaftergrapplers who've won wave to me thankfully
as i pass them, having touched them, taking shits on their contemporaries' customs
and paying them with my graces in one lump sum

I'm the one
of a kind too sublime
to be mentioned without mentioning Him
cuz I'm Him drunk in cheap bottles of gin
I'm in grins
that ascend
and become whirlwinds that turn tides
and burn pride
when i've come and then i've gone
you live just to learn why
g2: I never die