as you approach

the powers beyond
  the Eight Powers placed by
    the Demiurge
                    to become
      one of the Powers yourself
        merging and emerging
     in and from the sizzling
       day-night sky
                               best not forget
            the little dreams that
          nightly bite at you
          —that something has snipped
         your prick off and you are
            having a devil of a time trying
          to stick it
         back on
                       that your teeth
           with such furious
            efficacy have crunched
           down on themselves
         that now they crumble
               from your gums

            the condition of
          these conditions—
               these versions of
            an inner life coeval
          with each other—

             the crime and the ascension
                the ignominy and the gloire—

             in what weird arena
                  do we dream
                                     they stand as one?