Orwell’s stag film

I loathe a man with self-esteem, for of course
he stole it grinning, and flitting from his victim
like a nervous bat. The selfsame chemistry
revolving in a hookworm works in a man with self-esteem.
And oh, at the bleeding, and honking of his heart.
What an ignorant premise. Hang clothes, fine-count,
on a stamping donkey and nail a pen to its hoof.
It is important, and regal, and dizzied by success
when all the other animals are ecstatic, as animals.
Pigs never stirred their neurochemicals into swirling
oblivion while onlookers mope about piglethood.
And in the kingdom all problems are problems of sex.
There is no talk of mutiny, no talk of misery.
There is certainly no talk of Mexicans cutting up
chickens under the Virgin Mary from a white man
roosting in a half-way house on Broadway and 17th.


~ by Jeremy on June 13, 2012.

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