gracious sap, the lord whose foot quashes suns, who directs and interprets through my tense hand the jerky flow of the holy blessed sap. The sap of his outermost capillaries plays havoc with the earth, for the way the sap exits in lines and curves is the scythe of fate. As the holy blessed sap falls in chanting forms, life and death follow. Not even a breaking wave could strike harder than the blessed sap as it quietly dries on parchment and vellum wrenched from the innards of piously dancing sheep.”
