Star landslide
It's not just evening it's a threat
The son of joy falls in love

Her name is Doe Meat.
She dreams of groaning
And we believe her.

Belly-up, knuckles clutch
Hairy stems and flower pulp
Bringing each other wild with drops of water

Furnaces crack and scream.
In the second dining room,
Candied and indecent horsemen

Mindlessly telephone each other
Bermuda Triangle, they whisper as in hot spot
Stone eggs, dead designs

Tip-top dogs, lesser-known films
Cold apples, wrong centerpieces
Silver drops

Gold.