The New Religion

This babbling stream of glitter, quips, and cats

assaults me like a furry, stripping clown.

I trip between the zoetropic slats.

Your Highness–going up or coming down?

What is this transitory half-dimension

like Escher in a mirror bubble brain,

a hive that plummets freely to ascension

inside a quantum, cosmic, perfect grain?

“Off with their heads!” bomb-blasts the King of Trumps.

“Off with their foreskins!” roars the One True God

of One Too Many Faiths, counting your humps,

like God could care to spoil some ape’s rod.

Are we on Earth? In Hell? No–better yet!

We’re jerking on the fucking internet.