a wild kick
lifted our straight-laced ancestors,
up into a cave
where there were no linear quests.
the chase at the end of the tunnel
was a higgledy-piggledy loop.
we laugh like squeaks,
cherish a doomed and bottomless blue,
as we dance
in snarls of quadrille and septet,
sextain and pentagram.
in a funnel of ferocious lust,
a dying slap from a charred god
spins us flickering