Leather wombs, payments of lamb shanks, still births . .
Dani Sandal plus Kathy Acker plus William Burroughs plus plus plus
House Call: 1936
Beneath naked bulb hung from twisted cord, a black-bagged surgeon stoops to stroke porch dog dozing on bloodied bone. Inside his leather womb, steel instruments, useless as dried teats of this fat-bellied bitch, still smell of vinegar. His sway-back nag waits, an empty cradle, stayed atop prairie plane. Payment of lamb shank, tucked tight in coat sleeve; its sacrificed skull buried deep behind slaughter house. He has soaked the woman's sorrow with ether-drenched rags now burning in fires of cedar bough as smoke slinks from stone flue like drunken angels toward heaven's floor. Barren moon hovers, blue as stillbirth, this quiet night.
Labels: Blues, dani sandal, House Call 1936, kathy acker, puerto del sol, slaughter house, Still birth, william burroughs