Carnal flux
hordes
of flayed oxen
glowing in broken sensory flows
—
streams of beheaded redheads
pouring in the gray sluice of my torn skull
—
six hundred cold knives standing up in lunatic sheaves through the fiery dawn
—
flood of tender thighs
milky blindness around morning light
…
and my brains
unctuous atrocious brains
licking the blade of tenderness
—
The silence of the thigh
a thigh a thigh as it appears enlightened where the verb disappears into the muteness of the thigh abyss on silence and screams bloom in skin and curves through azure steaks and sliced breasts are quivering sidereal dissolution into bowels chaos of light spouting fury meaty colour shut up forget about psychoanalysis destroy screens withdraw your eyes from the swarm of speech be silent I planted the fork in the thigh and blood spurted three large scarlet drops on pale flesh three red rivulets that I savoured on the thigh with my tongue in bright flowing delight the pale obscenity of a smooth ass brightens my intimate atrocity in my glowing skull the light (suffused with crime) strips off the ultimate meat a thigh a thigh the sensory killing sings in sharp twists and quiet night lying through placid milk
—