Michelangelo may have been onto
something with that finger thing:
forces of Creation all collecting
to comprise collectively
a fine, divine, divining hand
to linger and to bring
another finger into its grand
fellowship of every swimming, standing,
worming, squirming, flying and reclining
bit of breathing creature – all the rest
of the menagerie the Universe
withholds, enfolds to feature –
and to spew
out like confetti. Ferlinghetti
touched a digit to the digits
of a Corso and a Ginsberg and a Kerouac –
now a Kettelhack
is visited by two escapees from his zoo:
a colorfully striped quasi-homo sapiens
who either entertains a little yellow fellow
whom he wants
to interview,
or has been summoned
by the little yellow fellow hoping
it might hear a quasi-human spew.
Who makes whom?
Big Bangs boom.
.
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