Shocking peep of cord. My deadening exposure 
humming with ferrous reds. Those fleshy 
blurrings within the gape. I had that dream again 
of an intricate pewter platter which collects the 
blood beneath. To join the sobbing aria – akashic 
energies, aether-song – and was it ever mine? 
This new life as head is the old life as bodyless. 
As lyric meat. And I'm leaking astral light all over 
the place. Intoning the indestructible, cuneiforms 
of smart and salt, from wund-pipe, this second throat. 
Yet I cannot console myself back together again. 
Dumb hock marbling and slack-jawed, I dirge on.