english professorisms

A rolling pillar of half-tone smoke

half-tone grey in the tonnage

of the heavy effacing self,

heavy in the legs and shoulders,

I came crawling out of the fetor of a weasel:

I, I roared a sickness inside

and out: thunderheads piled

like poisonous sky-stone within me,

poised above my white-hot heat-death:

boiling oil, all I am is boiling oil,

heavy in the porkbelly and coinage,

potted basil plants with placid bookish

rage, thrown red clay and feathers

out into the yard, all the potshards

and lefty goatsherds to gather there

a third world mine own, a sandpainting

for my cross, a mother for my Christ,

a holy but whorish version of Mary Godmother
for you the students, 

the Christ-child born half-Jew and half-Roman

in the alphabet stew; 

no matter: we are in this soup together

now drinking the susurrant milk

of our manicultured fathermothereraser