I Am In My Own Mind. I

I Remember The Stink Of The Liverwurst. How I Was Put On A Platter And Laid Between The Mayonnaise And The Bacon. The Rhythm Of The Refrigerator Had Been Disturbed.

There Is Joy In All: In The Hair I Brush Each Morning, In The Cannon Towel, Newly Washed, That I Rub My Body With Each Morning.

Thumbs Grow Into My Throat. I Wear Slaps Like A Spot Of Rouge.

The Ground Has On Its Clothes. The Trees Poke Out Of Sheets And Each Branch Wears The Sock Of God.

To Be Without God Is To Be A Snake / Who Wants To Swallow An Elephant.