It’s probably better to have him inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.―Lyndon B. Johnson

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Cast you hopes wide

And aspersions wider,

Hold back the hems of your gowns, boys

And have a natural ball

 

For they say one must traverse heaven

To knock on hell’s wrought-iron gate

But I know the combination:

It’s you, me and life, not necessarily in that order

 

But you get the paradigm.

Anyway knocking won’t do,

The devil is old, blind in one eye

And can’t hear out the other

 

As meanwhile angels lurk in the hills,

Learning the names of indigenous flora and fauna,

Twining their hair and breath into lassoes,

Another day, just another battle for souls.

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