Meat is the abstract of time
I don’t need Spinoza to tell me that
I’m just a jack-ass Erasmus
comes bearing his tales
a monk that the Church
doesn’t quite know what to do with
give him a flat collar and a cowl
let him cook the Lamb and expatiate
about which we don’t really care
as long as the coins hit the collection plate.
Meat is the atomic clock
time fried in its own juices
Taco Bell is a galaxy far away
as all galaxies are far away
if you are measuring in meat
I have trouble quoting myself
and all the rest are incorrect
a seismic centrifuge sorting uranium and flesh
a celestial Taco Bell taking orders
and belching fat in cosmic dragon breath
nebulae of methane and carne plasma
Augustine always had the best stash
Lamb’s-bread they call it
fills the air like meat slowly cooking
smoke it and instantly
you understand String Theory
The Meat Machine, Flesh Mechanisms,
Carnal Dynamics.
Even physics allows for the absurd
where mathematics meets muscle
I know my wings are made of wax
and I’m more of a termite than an ant
we are more socially evolved
oh sure, not as high as the bees
but insects have very little meat
and no arguments or democracy
I dreamed I had a driveway full of Edsels
each one with that cyclops eye on the grille
animals extinct and wishing their genes
to Mustangs and Broncos
horses not made of meat
I don’t want zeroes and ones on my barbecue
I want smoking, sizzling meat
flesh on my joystick
not a drone pilot in Iraq
where it’s all a video game
no meat
no real gristle and shank
no pain and concussion
no snicker-snack of cartilage
just mash the button and
watch the instant replay.
meek vegetarians, virtual wars
afraid to eat the gamey meat of death
