Milk the evil
from my crotch teet
and feed it
to the starving infantry
who cry at night
tongue-kissing the bullet-bitten corpses
of their fallen comrades
who rot like Brando
in the dark trenches
of my soul.

O, wild thoughts
plague me tonight,
Father!
I fear I could fill
each dry Texan lake
with the creamy evil
I summon with growling
tugs and yanks.

Lick your lips,
fiendish wild thoughts,
and swallow my darkness,
my evil that pumps forth
when my moon of desire is full,
and kiss this stickiness
from my trembling fingers
like a hungry god,
smiling.

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