Lucretius grabbed my arm and led 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.