We emerged from the darkness fireflies
that stayed lit, middle fingers to the Nothingness
all around us. Some were happy just
to be emergents alive, frolicking
in newborn Being. Others became judges
of who deserved light and life;
these were the black flies who struggled
to stay lit, and wanted, as the Dylan song goes,
to get you down in the black hole that they're in.
This Christmas season, know what delights
you, stay lit, stay two steps ahead of the Void,
now around every corner --
keep your micro-periscope handy,
and keep your hands off his wife who's clearly
approaching her seven-year-itch
with style and aplomb, and represents
Darkness upon the face of the Earth,
and seeks a re-constellated firmament,
like Eve throwing away the prop rib,
and sleeping in the devil's fig, he,
newly defenestrated from Heaven,
and looking to give the old man a f*ck You,
poor solemn fully engorged black fly.
Go in peace now, promulgate and prosper,
and get the f*ck out of here,
before I have one of the angels remove you:
this isn't some kind of meme democracy
that you get to occupy
like some 140 character ring on a Middle Finger.
Next week, we talk Ecclesiastes, Earth Abides.
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