Gas and dust    not algorithms

explain the birth of a sun

                        not water in rectangular channels

of a dead metropolis

                        not stories irrigated by breasts

of a thousand goddesses

the sacrifice of lama         tired stones       all that hoo-ha
            But however ravaged the land, he says,

            it gives back faith, beer, fuck off with a rake

            when we stop to gawp                      to ooh aaah
Then there’s the thrill

                      of multitudes gathering

in a raised ceremonial place

where the fat controller of chance and light

prepares the knackering theatre

of a new season

hacking at virgins’ limbs	 viscera as red rain

                     tumbling down hewn steps

                                                   heads rolling to the roar
This is how it’s done he says      in myth of snake, puma, condor

                     quarrying totems of stone       scalped hair 
We see pigs root in the muck 	   chickens cackle and shit

among monoliths abandoned in the plough-scape
This is how it is
                         green andesite	     modified    faced-off	
             bound	 	&	bountiful 	 
		boys and girls	like you

                                sucking moon-sperm as fruit
unfurling like missiles                      screaming

		into everyone’s soil