we want you.

grasp the goose by the neck

and feed her from the apple tree.

i've got a hundred books on naked

men, dead legs, the atom: pick

the tender tissue, fuse the scrawny

birds-- the cerulean tuft falling

down, down, down like science

from a bashed jar making you suck

the sick bark as if it were lemon

juice from the war-- we want you.

yes, we want you. we want to fuck

your tongue twice, eat you out like

bullet ants, swallow you

like earth would, like earth will.

grasp the goose by the neck

and feed her napalms, fragmentations,

disney rockets, GB 4s, kenney cocktails,

white phosphorous, white fiction--

shove it down her throat, that dead death;

line up the shovels & pocket eulogies.

someone will have to carve the stone;

someone will have to make the words.