Encrusted dustbin
o scrolling wind of late
capital and hematoma
let yourself go
Let your fustiest
notions glow with a neon
rot that’s gotten riper
just while I’ve been standing here
Unfurl all them spangles
Hitch your stars to a red pony
wagon on its last-legged way
round the bend, round the bend
A Desiderata for the post-human round the bend Kali Yuga.