Still sultry. Still waking up alone, tidying the tiny sack
of flesh, itself slowly waking, that hangs from the horntip of the Cow Year...
Talking to strangers about my troubles: not today, either.
Nobody to talk to today. Today, goods circulate in the manner of corrosive chemistry.
In point of fact, what’s causing such majestic sighing is the toothbrush.
I perform slow introspection: deer eyes, little scrolls of ears, dog nose, flowery tongue,
a glutton wolfing down the cosmos, and boiling the invertebrates of the sea!
At noon, I’ll sit the sofa of the new rain, cross my legs and count their hairs.
The first time I ever opened my eyes, I was vegan.
Math teachers at public universities barely ever give lectures wearing shorts,
that one with a mouthful of spearmint, trunks of the legs straight, pores humbly opening,
thinks on the Way that can waylay and the grotesque habits of the divine.
It's been like this for more than forty years! The bull’s horn pierces the new rain's face,
shall I go back to when the womb opened? No: electrocuted, I become a sea medusa, gossamer red.