het

tickling the arsonist
spine on his eagle mark 
the JUNGLE never sleeps 
    cannot
find a lighter in the
labyrinth    of
DARK MOTHER

she smelled the bool
cooking
drifting 
   into the ravine
Zeta Reticulan beach disco
         PULSATING
deadened
 and deaf

passing counterfeit arteries
trading exotic mudras 
guilty parties 
huddle    for 
monsoon songs 
and undertow 
in crystal pits 
of CANNIBALISM

riding the anvil down
to Tartarus like Slim
     with a flank strap
it's nine days of gasping
and laughter 
   for the low
  low price of
DARK MOTHER