Our Father who Art in Heaven

Our Father who Art in Heaven

Let's talk about Prince Cancer,

Lord of the Lungs, Male of the Prostate,

having fun throwing darts

to the smooth ovaries, and wilted vaginas,

multitudinous Groins

My father has the most beautiful cancer ganglion

at the root of his neck, under the clavicle,

tubercle of the good of God,

light bulb of virtuous death.

I send all the suns of the world to la chingada.

The Lord Cancer, Lord Pendejo,

is just an instrument in the dark hands

of the sweet VIP's that make up life.

In the four drawers

of the wooden filing cabinet

I keep dear names,

clothes of familiar ghosts,

words that wander around

and my successive skins.

I also keep the faces

of beloved women,

their loved and alone eyes,

the chaste kiss of coitus.

May good find

the shadow

of a heavenly tree.