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Filth!

And where would we be without filth!

Our very existence dependent upon it—

the first man from mud,

his wife from offal,

their children

and their children

and their children

and our children

from panting

heaving

red

wet

naked

desperation.

It is plain for all to see:

Nature abhors cleanliness.

So the grass decays in the suburbs;

the staphylococcus and her sisters

wilt in the white of a hospital bed.

Haven't you ever noticed

the best parties, with guests by the millions,

are thrown in rotting logs?

Filth is the canal we come out of in the beginning,

and the mouth we go into in the end.

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