So what was so bad about Cain
Who, it is said, did have his brother slain
By his distant arm. There was a right
Abrogated, his ritual offering shockingly slighted
In favor of the pastoral over the agricultural.
An illegal preference, prohibited in business culture,
That an uncouth shepherd should do so better
With the power-that-be, countenanced over his betters?
It wasn’t right, these unstructured, primitive days
Of uncivilization, uncalculated, unscheduled ways,
So open to the unorganized numinous light …
A numinous terror, infinite, that put to flight
The cultured Cain who became quite urbane,
An internalized soul, tamed and self-contained
Freed from visions of beauty, liberated
By definition and convention,
Ego retention, and relief
From attention ...
Cain you did not do so bad
Ending up as you did with a city of accomplishment.
Jubal’s pipes and Tubal’s bronze,
And the small matter of Lamech’s new rite
Of chthonic homicide
Just to keep the city going.
And of commerce, don’t forget, the attainment
Of total commodification,
The most effective modification of reality
To remain celebrity sane.
Your mark, O Cain first born,
A badge of success actually,
And who cares that it is perpetually
The occult mark of man,
An independence from the Son of Man?
“Don’t, Jesus, tread on me.”
Of what use was sacrifice in the city, ever?
For, as you always thought so, Cain,
Sacrifice was too costly