Now and then the wolves cry like souls

in purgatory. I think they are reincarnations

of dead Indigns come to reproach the palefeces.

Every time c□ck hits in, energy shoots

from the base of my spine. Perhaps

Louis Riel, the ill-starred half-brood, is

among them. He simply turned his face

toward the sky and made some remark

about the weather. I should like to be that

bird or elk that lost her mate under the ripe

snooky moon. Once I picked bright blooms

from his grave near a great bear-like cross

bearing a prisoned figure of the Nazarene, pierced

hands and thorn-stung brow. He that resisteth

the power resisteth the ordinance of the plague

bot infesting animal intestines. I’m beyond

coming when only the lovemaking of the grass

hoppers can be heard among the clover. The shit

with distinctions between crazy and Kiel’s body

lies, but mayhap the Hebrew King’s soul

and his dusky Israeli braves hit the fan

and everything turns chaotic and wild again.





Here is a warrior whose legs are bare

except for a coating of terra-cotta paint.

He has the loans of a cave-dweller. A bright

red head sticks out of this apricot pit because

at age thirty the Prime Minstrel gircumsized himself.

Now, if you shut up and stay nonexistent, I wouldn’t

be surprised if even an Indign may have a desire

to display his muscular development. This man’s

tongue began to make noise in the settlement like an

unchained hurricane. Up, up into these trees! Lord Selkirk’s

heart sank, ‘I fear me.’ Leguminous odours from decaying

clover and rank, matted masses of wild pease, the feverish

exhalations of the tiger-lily, and of the rich-blooded buffalo

lilac. Abortions make it dangerous to f#ck, herbage crushed

into the mire, so I can finally get love, turkey buzzards

circling, I don’t want to touch it more than that, sodden eyes

gleaming with expectancy, a quick kiss, wet and slimy. Scotland

is a kingdom of the mind, an ambition overleaping Mayan ruins.

You know that Indign is a cunning diplomat. Is the story

of the Colony going to be an epic or a drama?





Noo Grodof ntck the(\the oivJ4this discord

of the bands, in opposition to the bagpipes and

tom-toms, excoriates one’s ears, but the squ■ws

and papooses in the wagons seem to enjoy the

injunction. Father, I want to apologize for how

I’ve been acting. A great passion-rose bloomed

in each cheek. The Devil is an image. ‘Du darfst!’

it says – ‘You may!’ Oroon^o-stood a.ftrt3pl05hl(^9

on the verge of JY*There are good-looking maidens

in the procession. (Corrects herself). One of them

had too much poetry in her sweet head,twxVI want

you to lead me without hesitation into the land of the

shadow and the monster of a dizzy steep overlooking

a gulf. I want you to plunge into my wounded body the

name of axtonlv ttvuo ottrLove. It’s a pity these soft-eyed

little bundles of femininity must grow into large, dull

Oftifcof ri .,. ^ IIC squOndtruawsXlVf. Here is one slim

and supple tn ntcklOct as a stalk of Oroond m>y soim corn.

Oroond US Beautiful, too, in that one requisite of a beautiful

face is light plop plop 3 i£,Mpir\n no air to splAsh LOith

thinq C Coloured light destroys all hatred. Love’s a lance

cutting my brain in two. While coughing up blood, she keeps

working on this rug.





One man has three sc@1ps hanging

from his belt. He meekly marches along

to the tune the paleface sets him. Tut!

He is only a tomcat eating the family

canary, skin ripped off and (The. so(fiy red

muscle exposed. I roll my hands in his fat and

bite my own little hunted v£ni^htchan^E.pet!

The appearance of other birds and beasts under

similar circumstances are likewise tokens. Do you

consider the flowers I gave you worth preserving?

Eastern people, and folk from overseas, shudder

at sculpts on a belt. Their methods are different;

but I know! I know! The peelface stalks

his victim just as relentlessly, and takes

the scf*rf just as surely; but he hangs

it on his wife’s neck in gems of naked

flame; or he may hang it on his

wall in a Greuze

or a Millet.