Paco Wkorea Creates the Universe while Masturbating to the Pictures in a Math Textbook, 5th Edition.
My fucks are twenty different math equations
and we are Paco Wkorea,
be certain, I am a finite equilateral God.
We were axioms born in a cemetery.
I was born buried alive.
And we enjoy measuring the rays of sunlight
in open air caverns.
I hate that multiplied bright,
the sun tastes of hexagon bile,
the caverns itch like 45 degree angles,
and I hate that smugly golden smell of ratios,
the creamy nugget centers of arithmagic,
The asthmatic concrete of logic,
The dogs licking your rainbowbright scrawls.
For if the dogs are mammals than we are dogs too.
And thus sprach Paco Wkorea,
“The graphs of Antarctica, the parabolas of the Sahara!”
to the bargraph mountains,
made them skyscrapers
My plain hands, my 2-D eyes
“Thus the forests will be malls,
the rivers bathtubs, the sand dunes parking lots!”
The roads measure my feet, the sidewalks bow before me.
My Lebensraum is your Weltschmerz.
And Paco smartly smarted, “Ya got any books on wobots?”
Yes, the wobots know
how to scribble
the twenty different math equations.
They copy and compose under asphalt skies
in black ink
on green notebooks
where the moon is the circumference of