Sentence

Ain’t nothing more beautiful than a French diplomat in an

Italian suit discussing the intimate ties between

poetry and constipation with a United States

Senator in a discount blazer from the Men’s Wearhouse bought

especially for the occasion of proposing the

anti-Chimera act, a prime indicator that if children were

once the future, they are now the past, which is growing

hairier every moment, so as to keep us from

penetrating its insides, which we must nibble on as if

nibbling on donuts, by which I mean rubrics, glittering

rubrics in the dry heat of an empty test bank full of

raccoons with flexible snouts and long tails that

materialize in the shrubbery as thick-set stocky

fraternity brothers suicide bomb colleges full of free

thinking mavericks with tuning forks in their ears and rubber dicks

in their pockets, a veritable cure for loneliness and

its side effects, including the desire to fantasize

about mythological genitalia in the pants of

pundits who declare that to be alive is

fundamentally okay as long as poets test their

verses on guinea pigs before submitting them to us

humans as we exit the amalgamated marshland of

surplus value and enter an ordinary evening on

which ordinary people dream of lubricated condoms

for dogs, of mules who practice the pull-out method, of birth

control pills for cats, of floating trousers that haunt city squares

in search of red-walled boutiques where silk stockings and boot-cut

chinos fight for the attention of disembodied legs

while merchants masturbate, aroused by visions of painless

castration, aroused by hands without arms scribbling conjunctions

into dusty ceilings, aroused by hands without arms stirring

infinite bowls of soup, aroused by module-makers who

insist only on the metaphorical value of money

as represented in the hieroglyphics painted on the

walls of financiers who accumulate capital through the

unjustified sexual behavior of adulterous

women who appear asymmetrically —— legs over heads, hands

coming out of butts —- in public ceremonies in which

syringes suck out erroneous feelings from their bodies

while suits and ties stuff bones and ears into decorative

bottles and jars.