Without prosperity, I love the gods.
I achieve nothing, and am thus made man.
I recognize beauty, and am thus beautiful.
I know the ancient lies, and thus deceive
with today's shy truth.

I dissect my limbs,
the ones that finished
the frantic dance,
to the know the scandal
of bones reborn.
I feast on meats
from recalcitrant cows
and drink cheap wines
to have visions
of an untouched people.


There are worthwhile activities
asides from prayer and making love,
but heck if I know what they are,
and so I minister the radical word.