86 eating wide, eating light. eating life, abstracted.

a vegan athlete feeds as high as a lord or lion. takes in thru his pills & powders tons of plant biomass.

the harvesters are super-wide, a herd that pulls the field into a packet.

his results are unvegan: all those years of milk & meat.

all those years of milk & meat: the hominid body has a history of violence.

i'm summing, here, riffing on, Lierre Keith1 and give her this: we can't go back to eating plants. i, too, seek a way to take it all in; yet laugh at the omnivore's literalism. meat is obscene, is trying to put your mouth around it.

§ i'll take in more while eating less. what vegans try, by eating low; and carnivores by high, dense inputs. i give the humanists, the superiorists, this: like a god, we'll learn to feed on light & air. 1 'The Vegetarian Myth'. interview at Prévention Santé, 2016

as saints are called to presence in our sacred thoughts, and meat refines thru temple censer - all the world shall live in our remembrance.

§ as for masticating - my rats shall do that for me. as they nap, i plate them cuts of melon. they'll soon wake up, and seize their piece with pleasure. i strive for subtle service: and as i recede, my existence shall turn doubtful for them. their gratitude shall settle to the natural thanks of thankless use, of loving this environs i maintain. imitation flatters; enjoyment is thanks. alone, i'll watch from space. i'll hold my joy, my smile forms a circle. i'll thrive within my own happy hum. soon i'll learn to eat my face, and feed on my thanks. i'm omnivore yet have no gut or grinders. my body is mnemonic trace of bulk that grain once gave. i'm high as a god, or rat-low in the trophic order. i'll feed on those effusions that the Living have no use for. i'll learn the style of cowards & parasites. in every room you leave your

waste, waves of heat. i know you've laughed by sibilant trace. i share your office and when you're gone i strip into my longjohns and my pranayamas sop your remains. i bite my nails & like to scrape my calloused palms with fore-teeth. so i grow: though sickly, i'll persist. my chin is weak, my jaw no wider than a child's. my molars crowd incisors up and out, like a vampire's.