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