Seagulls . . . Slim Yachts Of

God Is A Lion That Comes In The Night. God Is A Hawk Gliding Among The Stars-- If All The Stars And The Earth, And The Living Flesh Of The Night That Flows In Between Them, And Whatever Is Beyond Them Were That One Bird. He Has A Bloody Beak And Harsh Talons, He Pounces And Tears.

We Have To Live Like People In A Web Of Knives, We Mustn't Reach Out Our Hands Or We Get Them Gashed.

Pleasure Is The Carrot Dangled To Lead The Ass To Market; Or The Precipice.

Imagination, The Traitor Of The Mind, Has Taken My Solitude And Slain It.

They Import And They Consume Reality.