Commentary on Priapeum No. 21

When it comes to Priapeum 21,

one has no way of telling

who is speaking

to the cloven

Goat-cum-God—

whether it’s a priest,

a landmaster, a thief,

or a whore—the one

who has been ruined

by having too many—

way too much to count

or to know to care—

For the wealthiest of all

must be he who has it all

and into whose folds all

must someday pass.

And that could be death

or a busy courtesan

or a priest whose faith

has grown cosmically sized.

But if one’s mouth

is as large as the maw

at the bottom of Dante’s

Divine Comedy—

then much gets in

and much—gets out

unless one’s a balloon

meant to burst and blast.

For such is the rule of quantity

that when it is too much,

then it turns fast into mess

where “all is cows, and all

the cows become the same.”

Whether it’s a farmer or a priest,

a crook or a hooker selling-ass.

Or a bulging god who’s horny—

beastly goatish—from both ends.

Or the one who buys one’s plenty

from dames’ gardens and ripe grapes

or from the benches on the Sacred Way.