Not all gods have gender,
not all have sex.
I see them spread in line,
a metaphysical burlesque.
Ages ago they shed their skin,
that sense of themselves
as awakening,
and their feeling for us,
carrion erupting in their nightmares.
Thrown away like a Twinkie wrapper,
not even a final savoring,
a squirt of creme filling licked out,
just an oily crinkling
tossed aside—
this tyranny of garbage
this mortal threat to the gods
gutterized, gutterized.
Their thoughts are inured
to the vortex of flesh—
our rapture, our touch,
our empire split
as impressions collide,
coincide,
every organ’s joy
quickening the spin.
They tore off their skin.
So many gods have ripped it
and grown accustomed to suffering,
to bloody stumps, conscience,
to a red drip, guilt, sin,
regrets oozing into view
to evaporate
or coagulate.
Exposed
yet invulnerable,
like a public confession,
so open, so well-known,
yet impeding intimacy.
Their apparent feeling
is just a groan beneath the scab.
And this is our entertainment
for tonight, perhaps for eternity,
our entertainment, our fun,
a chorus line of insensate androgynes,
ancient and scabrous,
a new crust at every performance,
our entertainment
for tonight,
for eternity.
Not all gods have gonads,
not all have sex.
I see them drawn in line,
a metaphysical burlesque.
Exposed
yet invulnerable,
a public confession,
so open, so complete,
yet circumscribing intimacy.
Their apparent feeling
is just a scab,
a crust protecting the guts.
And this is our entertainment
for tonight, for eternity,
our entertainment, our fun,
a chorus line of impassive androgynes,
ancient and scabrous,
a new shell at each performance,
our entertainment
for tonight,
for eternity, all lined up,
their skins forgotten,
our carnival forsaken.
I was born in Duluth, Minnesota in 1957. I've been drawing all my life and painting since about 1975; I started writing
poetry and rants in, maybe, 1976; since 1996 I've been recording those poems and rants, usually with a "musical" backing.
I live in Saint Paul, Minnesota. My partner and I have two children. I have a day job that is in no way artistic....more
Poet Douglas Kearney and composer/producer/drummer Val Jeanty link up for a a compelling LP that feels like the written word come to life. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2021