In the autumn of 1964,

I ate a rat — heart and kidneys,

raw and hide — I ate

a dozen of spiders, and

— in the winter of 1965 —

a few flies, I ate,

ire, meanness and bite my

brother to death, my

father to blood, but they

went to the mall and

had fun. I ate

— in the summer of 1976 —

red sparrows, a bloody

leather belt and

— in the winter of 1979 —

Calvino, Bukowski, then I ate

Fante, Proust, melancholy,

Hamsun, I ate, colors,

spiders, flies, a bloody

leather belt again, I ate, my

left forefinger, my right ear,

and nurses, nurses,

and nurses, I ate,

who, locked me out in the world,

where I died alone

of mind poisoning.