"the soul says eat, the body would feast"
Flesh down bare leg
Antlers tongue in
Motor running twisted out of sheep
They seem to have the same sort of rhythm
Happy but distant
Our sacred thing
Smirk tongue, superior lick, fuck chute
Singing on all sides
This dividing and detaching counteracted
The college of fools is gone!
Oh, this is all messed up! I want Sally Jean
Down through the awful spaces between the bricks
On Fitzroy St. across the wide quay
That was heavy, filling her