Neither twine nor rope nor Holy Ghost   Could bind this man to the mortal coil   Yet with mirth and dust and processed meats   A feast lay there before him      "This is evangelical", he said   He gandered to the right and to the left   Tactile affirmations and obsessive observations   And need i even mention such impressive desecrations      I am the city of dust   I am the cold dark place   I am the half dead flesh that needs no sleep   The pregnant pause   The sound unsung   The gut cut up   The gut cut up in real time   So, you will be mine