If it meets and overcomes a man, it swallows him entire, so that nothing remains. But ever after
it laments him as long as it lives.
Appetite is the star-stuff that
sustains us. You who are man
recognizes this: the sharpness
of hunger, then its violence
overwhelming sense—a moon
cracking the sky open like a fist.
And how does one resolve hunger?
Go forth, find your satiety
in the kill. Our kind only
seems able to understand
remorse. This galaxy always
swollen with it.