So soft his neck, so distant from the thought of stone,
I am appalled to see it pass into a stone.
That night swam for so long and slipped out of my hands.
Tonight it is as clear as fossil in the stone.
I come from a small country of large alterations,
where stone erects no memory for passing stone.
Somebody is fucking somebody in a corner.
Every body juts as if released from stone.
Why have you come to kill this mutant, strong young man?
Hack off my head, and I will still turn flesh to stone.
There is a slippery slope in things that lie down flat.
In all coming and going speeds there is a stone.
He is not dead, I tell you, he is merely sleeping.
The rest of you move back. Jee, roll away the stone.