.....

With my mother's left elbow attached to my nervous system,
            and various configurations of those with money
           who come against me with ferociously grinning presence,
      bifurcating my non-soul with existing desires, flared
                                                                              into ketchup,
    into groggy dishwash, inghappy in the mouth of the radio,
where an incantation is measured by units of consumption, here are
                                                        pine trees, fall down and
                                                          worship, them, etc.  Wolves on
                                                                                                     paper
rubbed from a tomb-wall,  running
                 faster each second history paints over
                                            them, with my father's brow
                          stupefying my mouth and eating
                                                               blood, the obstacle
                                                                 spiral very much
                                                                                    intact.