Crazy lumps all twisted up in a big mess.
Who can't contend with a contender
With rough stubs for hands, yeah
And even then as the spikes collided
In a cross-boned skeletal dance
Many men were alarmed in thinking
That perhaps these dreams were meant
For creating wonderous things,
In real time and on television screens
As the collision of fish twirl
From the ceiling, like it was OK
To not be a realist for a second.


Plain Religion
Holy is water,
Food, sleep, and the rest
Of our basic needs.