Draw tight your utmost.
Bury it in your body’s warm chamber
where you will find a projector projecting
math equations onto the inner skin of your stomach.
Broadcast the creamed Mormon rain of stars,
tossing sandy milky ways into thin air.
Work on your composure and straighten your shoulders
or the leopard moon will leap upon you and shank your back
with a fine blade among the lick of his vermillion tongue.