They pressed a pistol to my temple, yelled:
"why have you bastard turned up again
we'll slap hungry lips with scarlet fangs
tongue will lick the sunbeam from your nails
and stop the tinsel Jatayu's hinged-wing strain".
Oilsoot penury in me lees whatever is stark
designs in secret teaktrees behind screen of bark.
Once my hymn had pink-tongue grass-green
minksoft belly women in noun
and the city's lockup churned in spleen.
Soundpipe hissed: We'll chew roast fore
umbilical chord I'll snip in rage
werewolf girl gave oath palate strench
chilli-dust to blur pin-vision gore
won't look back cremating the trampled dead
tear off spermpots with hot metal pincers and close the lineage.
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