The girl is so healthy that fever
lifts her up to a tree.
The hem of the mating dance annoys the scholars,
the stitches resembling Arabian calligraphy,
the underbite of a pike.
The girl's tricks are recorded as part of her identity;
lets take lunch out of the bag and make some coffee.
The songs teeth are loosened, I dreamed about this once,
the jaws split apart, and a stiff spell gushes out from the throat,
a bear who's been lying in the same position for a long time
demands a sacrifice and a rhythm
rougher than sanctification.