The Law of the Land

it’s the law of the land that all things must pass
or at the very least pass out if they inhale any more of that greenhouse gas
now. stop the stutter cut the colloquial
now. we’re all out to save the world
but this inanity is downright parochial
earth is now nobody’s wife
it’s not married life this land strives for, it’s an afterlife
so don’t you wed her, by god, marry her proxy
by the power vested in me i now pronounce you husband and doxy
i’m a man of the cloth, you see, cut from the same crap
man of leather man of silk
monster of cookies and milk
down on all fours to lick and to lap
a holy coward, neither lover nor fighter
a spaniard will always best his man or eat his own miter
grainhouse of truth is so often loaded to capacity
and i’m no exception, mine’s an unreliable mendacity
so we’ve buried the old hatchet and feuds
by now they’ve all been forgotten
what’s the point of this fecundity
if Eden’s so utterly rotten?
and why do the elms turn pink when it rains?
there’s no other solar system for rent or sublet
write earth an elegy and all that remains
is the internet