I Could Do This All Fucking Year: Day Seven

No submissions again today, so I decided to punish you guys with this picture of The big bird's bony appetite/ Is as insatiable as the sun's from "Esthetique du Mal." As you can see, this big bird is hungry for bony, and his open mouth awaits the half-digested "worms" of the Yip-Yip, who is here depicted as a sexual dancer sliding down a pole. The big bird's head is thrown back in an agony of anticipation; he desires deeply to enter the Yip-Yip like the huge hand of a puppeteer and let the sound of its dispassionate entreaties--yip-yip-yip-yip-yip-yip-yip-uh-huh-uh-huh--urge him at last to a cheer-led climax. As the man himself writes:

The sun, in clownish yellow, but not a clown,
Brings the day to perfection and then fails. He dwells
In a consummate prime, yet still desires
A further consummation. For the lunar month
He makes the tenderest research, intent
On a transmutation which, when seen, appears
To be askew. And space is filled with his
Rejected years. A big bird pecks at him
For food. The big bird's bony appetite
Is as insatiable as the sun's. The bird
Rose from an imperfection of its own
To feed on the yellow bloom of the yellow fruit
Dropped down from turquoise leaves. In the land-
scape of
The sun, its grossest appetite becomes less gross,
Yet, when corrected, has its curious lapses,
Its glitters, its divinations of serene
Indulgence out of all celestial sight.

I think I managed to stay pretty faithful to the spirit of his words, you know? More humans-wearing-costumes to come later this week, I promise.