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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