Hunce Voelker

You take a cake: death rats in filthy slums,
Grey fauning visions in their decadence:
Small babies' bodies farmfrom hardly come
To life, are dead in guttered innocence.
Smack pistols replace cocks; new cakes address.
Speed bullet speeds past kittens in your hall's
Hard violence into your torn flesh.
Yet public vibes our cocks undressed, enthrall
Our cake cut universe; unsevered love
Becomes creation's acid rock upon
The ship we'd build, for rat is not above
Nor helps build ship cake crews: (Within) not dawn
(Without) not death, nor free, nor amnesty,
Nor shadow (near/far) on our fantasy.

--from Joy Rock Statue Ship (1968)