
“Intolerance” by Joaquin Abella
you squirm with the worms
in your cankerous
craters of ignorance
deep in its damps
where sunlight can’t cleanse
your arbitrary filth
yet somehow you thrive
with your burgeon
of slithering isms
you now and then scrabble
up and over the rim
don your sheets
mount your dragon
and visit our civilized
precincts to peddle
more unctuous bilge
until someone like me
kicks your pustulant ass
back down that black hole
where your mortified
parents abandoned you
From my book Bullets from Bones