July 7, 2021

Destruction is the most beautiful

of cabarets. Grasshoppers

caked to the grill of a collapsing Oldsmobile

bloody as a buffalo jump.

Locusts are a plague of reason,

a systemic and measurable loss --

they flow like an ice cream symphony

in a sky of marbled doom.

They are no more than populated

wind, and there is no farmer

who does not manage wind.

Grasshoppers are a disheveled horde,

chaos miles wide, drooling brown,

longing to jam themselves

into open mouths, ride like surfers

on wailing tongues. You cannot survive

even half a grasshopper inside your mind,

As a species, they know th...

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