Anoint this empty head
With oil.
Mount the throne
And
Taking the crown
Love this polished
Pate
Burnished and unencumbered
By apeish hair.
Grass cannot grow on
Such a busy street.
Ghosts, hungry,
Eat my meat,
Guests drink my wine.
All the orgiastic stem
Dispels...
Morning mist,
Dyonisus,
Pan...
And the gods of
Mountain dwellers,
Knowing nothing
And bending in
Peculiar shapes.
This is what we do-
Contort to see
To somehow be seen-
To entwine
To dine
To feed the pretty worms