T H E E N D C O M M U N E

A girl appears in front of me. I do not know her. A vision from somewhere, or a dream I have. Her garment is animal’s skin, her hair is braided beautifully. She is offering me two cups: one of flesh and one of clay. I drink the poetry from both of them. Now I speak in the Chumash tongue, and tonight is my night of spiritual marriage: I partake ceremoniously in the lugubrious rite of Datura occultism