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Clade Song 4

You Motherfuckers Believe in Magic?

Complain, or say oak,
all you want.
To coarsen the culture, to curse it,
swearing must insist on magic.
Somebody asks me what "minge" means.
Fuck it, I'm gonna morph into a pustule,
all the better to hex a corporation as,
gonna speak out like and for the dead
climb out of this oath semi-well-read, in bed.
Induce pregnancy.
Heat, moisture, and friction create felt
on the underside of our infirm pet
and that sounds like some badass druid shit, like
the First Purebred Bison Calf Born After Disease-
Washing Embryo Transfer, a line
which I cut and pasted from Twitter.
Sounds like some sympathetic bullshit
and, likewise, I am purebred, am shoddy glitz.
Everybody has an ear, slightly cocked. Every body?
No, wait. I didn't use my youth like that.

Jared Stanley Jared Stanley is the author of two books of poetry, The Weeds and Book Made of Forest, as well as four chapbooks, including How the Desert Did Me In. Stanley is a 2012-2014 Research Fellow at the Center for Art + Environment at the Nevada Museum of Art, and teaches at Sierra Nevada College. He lives in Reno, Nevada.