“Cocoon above! Cocoon below!”
--Emily Dickinson
A place for perforation
The spirit-skin
Because it is dark
We can only pretend
Where hands end
Knives begin.
*
This is of neither of our ends
Nor constitutive of a means
Invisible bees for effect
And amputations together
We make a new soul
Our vessel is called creation
Vigilance is made from a mold
Whereof we are this eventual crust.
*
Horror being made
Of these products and joy being made
Of these ducts
Culture is a process
Of horrifying enjoyment
These limbs beginning in the soul
Are delimited and first:
"My life, my gas"
*
Being a drawing...
Sex is a mouth full of pearls
and blackened teeth
Sex is a decision for decision,
l'esprit de corps.
*
To ceremony The Open.
To perforate envelope.
Cocoon above, cut below.
*
"In thoughts of the visions
of night, I saw
long rows of angels in paradise,
each with his hands
in a jar of spermeceti."
"Who would think, then,
that such fine
ladies and gentlemen
should regale themselves
with an essence
found in the inglorious
bowels of a sick whale."
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