My belly is a-stormin'
Fraught with currents of the abstract variety
Shall I focus on class, or rather take arms against a sea of
criticisms and by opposing them
simply write the damned thing, to hell with the problem, problematizing
and complicated implications of
whatever the schmucking hell is the nonsensico-gibberish, politico-socio-
working-class hegedemonic spectacular spectacular
it comes bubbling out of my throat like some noxious
elixir, the fountain of life and tree of knowledge
gnarly roots in my throat, heaving it all up
It all comes back up,
my cerebellum and gut snarled up in a nasty, nasty
knot in the stomach,
knee in the gut
sucker punch
heavy laden
violent broil, storm's a-comin'
brew it out, bear it out.

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