CANTO 45 Put one foot

 

Put one foot in front of the other

so there’s somewhere to go

otherwise you stand still. A million vermillion dog

tracks pitter your patter with stasis for your basis.

Lambaste addle-pated pork warts

aflame with too recent events.

Change your frame of mood to repair

last Tuesday’s aperture. Make the focus-puller

roll up the credits until chasubles

strangle an oft-told alibi. Dampen the magneto

that won’t spark strikes anyway.

Push the limits of anything to get something

out of nothing. Only by warping a frond

can you palm off an ongoing impetus the way

a frog would leap off a cliff, here goes.

Why deny the deepest slap of your flat hand?

How can you stand before the cruciflux and not bow

yield or anneal? Why are all your generous flexions

aimed at the saints of inertia? When did you decide

the brink wall of your precipice was transparent?

For what reason could fog horn in on your choppy

sea of tranquillity where the only atmosphere was bliss?

You know what you have to do.

Pick up the bucket even if the handle bites your palm.

Shut down the franchise of immobility which translates

as get off your dead ass. Break through the crust

of the biscuit filled with strawberry bullets.

Spit out the cartridges coated with phlegm.

Flame your flamingo guts to burn off

the shellac of lassitude. Bridge the suspension gap

with electrodes popping 100,000 volts!

When that fluffy comforter snuggles you

down in duck feathers of cozy mediocrity

start a pillow fight! Fling a flamboyant thought

of enlightenment into the breach of sleaze and sleep!

Even if you sink and succumb into thumb-sucking

force of habit say as you go down, not next time, suckah!