Blood Days Recipe     

Noone's nest in twelve-hour tides, sleeping

and waking. The meteor men mythologize

but the moon's a tacky lie, acquit it

of blood, let the blood be a trance, a haze.

Internet radio from the hometown; how many times

hearing the Hard Drive Live Eighty Eight Five,

sending fresh underwear to the slaughter of your liberal agenda,

let it be hunger let it be red toilet water at bedtime.

Hate a person the more you love them, make them

lie naked but do not take your clothes off. Feel

the skin skin skin soothe weeping synapses,

say you are hypnotised, old animated episodes

blink on and off you have seen them all before.

Contort the legs, conjure blood into the morning,

make sacrifices to muscles and dendrites,

butter swirling veal cutlets in a cast iron pan,

eat the baby cow, iron creamy smooth as potatoes.