We had no breakfast , we made no attempt at Chivalry We hadn't yet explored all of the avenues of ecstasy We strode into the brambles with a predatory calm Those days seem awkward- when we think about them now The fork, the gristle and the pulse, the parts of me I like the most My shivers when the fire goes out The principles of hungry mouths The balance here is delicate and is easily disturbed All that keeps the dark back is a following of words At the moment of the taking our excitement is the same We understand the danger of the fanning of the flame Desire the heart before it cools, affect the shame to look away: Our confusion is a cousin of the panic of the prey We hold the Life in one hand as the one who bakes the bread (The erection at the hanging and the tearing off of heads) Stand elated at the burning --all our murders look the same We are the thought and the display, the explanation and the side-effect Shriekback, Despite Dense Weed