Slipping down into the Pure Land into the Awakened State of Drunk into the furnance blue Heart of the one one one true Allah the Beloved Companion of Dangerous Moods– Slipping down into the 27 Hells of my own religion my own sweet dark religion of drunk religion my bended knee of Poetry my robes my bowl my scourge of Poetry my final circumcision after the circumcision of the flesh and the circumcision of the heart and the circumcision of the yearning to Return to be Redeemed to be Washed to be Forgiven Again the Final Circumcision the Final and Great Circumcision– Broken down awhile and cowarding in the blasting rays of Hideous Enlightenment but now finally surrendered to the Great Resignation of Poetry and not the kind of Wise Experience or the false kisses of Competitive Insight, but my own sweet dark religion of Poetry my ***** prize my sandals and my shameful prayer my invisible Mexican candle my useless oils to clean the house and remove my rival’s spell on my girlfriend’s memory– O Poetry my Final Circumcision: All the pain was in fearing and ignoring the girl’s voice and the girl’s touch and the girl’s fragrant humbling girlishness which was lost three wars ago– And O my love I love you again I am your dog your cat your Cleopatran snake I am bleeding painlessly from the Final Formless Circumcision as I push up your dress a little way and kiss your miraculously lactating knee And may all of you who watch and G-d forbid! are in a suffering predicament as I go sliding down to Love– may you speedily be embraced by the girlishness of your own dark girlish religion