J. Robert Oppenheimer quoted a fragment of the Bhagavad Gita declaring, ‘I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.’ His colleague put it in another way when he leaned close and whispered, ‘Now we are all sons of bitches’. – TSCC
What Would Freud Say? – Bob Hicok
A bomb test site: flowing down. Silt river
dragging my bent body. Be beads, feathers,
voodoo figurines. Come, come, come. Sandbar
radiation. Come melt. Tempestuous
love, come melt with me; monstrous pleasures
in what science can do. Art is this. Art is
that. So what loneliness. I sleep topless.
Nothing stirs my sleep. What is art. What is
thus. I show you my scars, primal bronze bells
that dance – blue note – beatific boggy-boo.
Geiger’s counter still counts and Nevada
is home in the way Lucifer made Hell’s
Dome home. Give me poetry that’s taboo;
verses full of pussy farts and smegma.