"the soul says eat, the body would feast"

                                                                                          - Emerson

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

                               This rhythm

                               Our sacred thing

Smirk tongue, superior lick, fuck chute

Singing on all sides 

                                    Steadily

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