I spit on any fresh green breast.
It’s a misdemeanor. You can build the rest
from airplane parts and Listerine.
I get my news from Meerkat Manor.
Every Cylon is a mystery.

I get my news from Al Jazeera
and the American Apparel catalog.
Dick Grayson stole my lady friend.
Her muzzle was like yellow fog,
a post-consumer fiber blend.

I wake to Auto-Tune, and take my waking
out into an orchard, where I traipse.
I killed so many bulls the young males went
insane to meet another elephant.
They raped a rhino. They raped some apes.

Mother Mary ploughs the deep remotely.
She guides the Rover to its red thought.
I can’t live with or without me.
I etch the speckled cybernaut.
I rape the earth. It’s not my fault.