Replacement (translated by Wally Keeler)

The dream is a death. Shameful.

Somebody (SOMEBODY!) in whose hand the lock flies

open — the bellowing darkness breaks out.

THE KEY THAT OPENS THE SECRET IS THE SAME THAT LOCKS IT.

THE SAME MOUTH BREATHES COLD AND WARM ALIKE.

MY DEAREST ENEMY: THE DOUBTS IS OBSCENE.

The girl has eyes like lemon slices on a martini glass.

THE AXE STRIKES — ITS COUNTLESS SOUND-WAVES

       ARE THE SILENCE.

Jéhtamet makde szabboli; who could’ve dreamt it?

THE SOUL IS THE RELIC OF WINGS —

       INTERIORIZED EQUIVALENCY.

Out-laid rails,

muffled megaphone mouths,

                                                                                     test-tube god.

WHAT ELSE, BUT A PRISON-MASK GROWING TOGETHER

       WITH A CEMETERY?

The guard with his machine gun begins a howling.

Guide Blake to the water trough; he might get thirsty.