A VISIT FROM A CYCLOPS
Perfidious behavior has been reported to me
that I can put an end to with the blink of my one good eye.
When evil runs rampant, I can spew lightening fire and mountains leap.
When toxic spirits are on the loose—with no air to breathe,
or pure water to drink or good food to eat,
and poison ivy covers the cancerous land,
and incest and patricide and limp dicks weep,
and there is war after war after war
with nobody writing descent poems anymore
since Milton’s, “Paradise Lost.”
It’s time for me to return.