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.