You are too-easy awe but that's okay.
You have that Rose-Type Headwound poets get.
you will be a strange meadow delicious as certain fossils which are vanities.
You will jump over the inevitabilities.
Live out the Bhagavad Gita in one hour.
Count the the number of extinct species between rungs and laugh.
You will Bed A while.
You will not die of irony.
I will come to your rescue to save you from Irony.
Watch for me in my Garanimals.
I saw you behead the menagerie of in-tell-ect-u-al swans,
and I forgive you, just like Georgie was forgiven the tree.
I will whisper you stories about Andy Warhol tricking God
& vice versa, as you fall asleep on my pillow.
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