The pheasant covers your eyes. Its chest is a thick plank. Then I yanked terraces out of the hills. I yanked out every grain of rice. The meat in aspic and the stench open.
Cotton rags absorb linen.
Then we pull them out with a cord. With a musical ear from the well below, and from the one above with a bucket and a cord. The skin rubs itself out. When the cube spins on the flat unmarked field, it spins for the last time. The oblong triangle draws itself.