Ursula LeGuin, She's Like A Goddess To Me

CARMAGNOLE OF THE THIRTIETH OF JUNE

I will grow fingernails
to scratch the scab
that stops the sore’s lips on the scream
the pusty whistle of escape
EEEEEeeeooooooo steamboat annie comm roun the bend
I will grow fingernails
ten feet long and walk on them like stilts
& breathe steam out my nostrils
& split boards with my eye
HAI!
don’t get near me with your martial arts
unless you want to get split right down between the balls
neat as a colonel’s chicken
I got Real Bad Vibes
I have been talking to my father
who died in 1960
he’s 101 years old not feeling very perky
he gets left out of things
locked out.
I will grow fingernails
and claw down the Lubyanka
stone by stone by stone.
Yeah. Sure.
Listen, my vibrations are so bad
they’re Richter 87
look out down there in Daly City.
My toenails are growing too.
I can dig up graveyards with them
and dance on the burning ground.
I use the urns for footballs & my tongue hangs out a yard.
I am WUMMUN, ta doody boo-bah,
but even worse than that I’m me
and feeling mean
God’s stomach
rumbles like a drum when I jump on it
when I dance on his chest he snores
when I dance on his gut he farts
when I dance on his cock he comes
when I dance on his eyes he wakes and all the stones fall down
ashes, ashes
all fall down.
Get up and dance, creation!