It's an easy question and I've saddled up my desk,
headed for the horizon just like the crows
staking out another claim now that their autopsy
in the far pasture is complete.
Who will wait around to count the bones,
throw the bones, suck the marrow,
build a new temple
to the day after the day after tomorrow.
The sinewed jaw bone strangely open,
aghast at how hard it is to chew
a mouth full of sky.
Teeth enameled commandments.
Gobblers by Masticadores 