[sound of wind blowing]
a dutch hermit of the 17th century wends his way through the low country
stupid and crazy as a rail
he thinks of nothing
but sex with a giant purple snail goddess
her weirdly articulating mouth
gnawing his face off
as he cums
his subsequent abduction
faceless
half-dead
into the saucer
of a god-like alien
where he is repaired
'in a bath of glowing milk'
he dreams that he spends years
in the court of an alien lord
'that tall white horrible thing whose innards peak to one another'
he sleeps
and he mates
with formless purple things
and then with faceless pupil things
and suddenly he's left one day
back at his hovel
as three quivering flesh cubes
connected by purple snail flesh
a spigot hangs from one of his sides
a thing like a plant, an insect's head and a
penis
dripping the alien milk
that milk is what all alien flesh is made from
completely reconfigurable
a sort of rewritable protoctistan pixel
the milk of cellular programmability
Hammer Production.
