Armorica! Amorica!

I

The Bees preceded the Men

From out of the hollow log.

Thus the world was populated

And the honey fed the Men.

Sweet was the honey

And sweet was the language 

From the tongues of Men

Whose words rose in swarms.

II

Establishment shot: Exterior Night. A gay bar in South Carolina.

Two shot: Burbank with a Michelin travel guide; Bleistein with a Marlboro Light. Nil nisi divinum stabile est; caetera fumus.

The Antiquity of America. Shamanism

On the steppe and plain entwine.

No need there for the tattooed magus out of Egypt

Or Alexandrian chop-logic. Acanthus spine

And thistle-plume now grow around the 

Little basket placed upon the child’s grave.

Toys within the Corinth casket

Mere ludic models that could not save

Poor Spinoza. Poor Spinoza, child-lover, made Menippus

Disappear beneath a ground-glass stare.

Willi Hegel smirked, remarking

That B’s consumption wasn’t there. Conspicuous 

And breathing dust, the homeless dead,

(That wild army) march towards their Utah of Delight.

A Chrysler de Soto pulls into Quizquiz

Where wanton boys become gods at night.

Bleistein, type-founder, blue in the gum,

Loose in the teeth, stands in the street

A half-remembered Little Venice

Reflected in the puddle at his feet.

South-facing false oat grows on the plain.

Faith now is the belief in the

Concatenation of opinion poll results.

So advertise it in the tavern and the tombs:

The Golden City is but dried grass huts.