say I will not be
with the brave decent kindly honest men
who merely tolerate
the taste of life.
While my wife sleeps
I sit alone at night and drink
and stir the source of what is foul in me.
know that increase cannot come from good.
(by gilding omens
of an endless Not
while decent conduct rots us to a ghost)
or shows the strong dung that feeds my root the most.
pain prepare her to sustain my stain,
crush all not me in her brain:
yet, when semen smells like rotten weed
I wish I were a grain, a stone, a shell
lie on the ground and be rubbed away
by the decent movements of earth, and
air, and rain.