CANTO 41
To at what... At her whose... To whom her... To her, at whose cunt I worship Bamboozled, not myself brains, nerves Spiraling thru muddy water lost... I return to my life whether young or dead out of control in my devotion Shifting ground blood world Innamorta Selected Thus endure a cast She only can radiate Bless cursor Time from hour to hour Ahhh...Love licked its way She stepped toward me from the shadows To change my life irreparably Ah...yet Insufficiently Yet thus I was made recipient of such Amity And urged to the highest good! "Be blithe," she says, "Be grateful" -the will to scourge, expunge... Heaven is sous erature unless Here here Here Here ...Her footprints in this sand happened.