My father buried a fish in the deepest woods. The fish was still half alive. A gold filling lay in the carp's red mouth where an infant sea turtle still swam. My father was a madman in the dust. A liquid fire began to inflame the radiant night. The moon is an unhappy sugar, melting in emerald smoke. No one can save us here, thought I. Please help the little ones, as I crush them underfoot. I kept thinking about the red carp's mouth and how my father buried the carp without a prayer, and then I began to eat pork. My father kept burying the fish. He buried it fifteen times before he ate it. Oh, mystical one, the birds are in a rage and the does are beginning to growl. I'll take my father, wash him, then eat him, as he did the fish. Then the trees will finally eat me and I'll finally have an orgasm. Oh mystical one, the moon is spent and the sheep are dead under starlight.