Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Imagining Quick Boaz Hating All Things Foreign (or, Dear Poseidon)

You’re right all of the time and I’m wrong every minute,
That’s what I get for being such an asinus.
You’re fine with your tarama and I’m great at anger only,
I savor a pride as big as Andromeda!

I’ve known you for a fact and I’ve known you to be truth.
Why ask, “what’s she doing with my shoe, your hungry
     Ruth?”
Later, Bethlehem, levirate, the pedantic tome,
Became sanctuary to her widowed periglottis.

And she swung to the legal buggery, done gleaning barley
     with her teeth,
Nothing is sacred, nothing’s sweet.
So, fire away, Ezra, sing too of my blood!
My sword on pure yonic sheath
I’ll fix to be glad!

Carrapato from Tarapoto, I’m a bitch of a father?
You give me a pot, I throw it ‘round, holler?
“I’ll fuck your walls, o Elimelech!
Did you fuck Orpah too at the back of her neck?”

I say no purity now, no sanctity now, o internationalists!
Shake unrepentant infidels, hail Deutoronomists!

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