God was drunk on the job, no point in sugar coating it or dancing around the issue. He went down those stairs and broke his neck. Good riddance to bad rubbish if you ask me. As to the Greek gods, that road led us to our current situation in the first place. I for one would like the Celtic dieties get a chance at bat on this one, assuming we really need any of "those" entities around.
As to the poem, that I quite like. I will give you an abreviated version of my "damn you, use punctuation" speach, there that wasn't so bad was it?
I enjoyed how the rhythm naturaly picks up speed twords the end, leading us to "pandeamonium" which is one of my favorite words and wholly under-used in this sports fan's opinion.
I love ribosomes... they're my favorite sound of green. But endoplasmic riticulum is better with a white sauce. Down down is one down too many. And when I hum, my Baba tells me to be quiet... especialy if she and I are in church. Baba doesn't like me to hum in church. But my pebbles brought down a Giant... have you heard the tale? Soon (ah me) the sea god might wake... I hope my fionns will suffice.
...for the first time in a while that i can think of you have married up a picture that tells your story too achoo achoo dirty birds and their dirty flu and i don't think you needed to put it there just as i don't need to put my pictures up either but we do... so the picture aside this chronicle in wode this dreamtime painting of diary days is just as hauntingly odd and deliberately incomplete as so many of your other pieces. i like that you tell me stuff without me realising. and that is an art. i enjoy your articulate construction and asperger's syndrome choice of words. there is always something there to remind me - as dionne warwick might have chanted. true. you could write a recipe for veal and ham pie and make it read like a journey to the centre of the earth... hasta, k