Kali

Cabeza de Vaca. A dream. A vision.

And I saw at dawn a grid, and upon that grid were dots, and there were three dots per square.

A vision.

And I traveled west . . .

Shipwrecked on the eastern shore. I made my way through gardens lush and moist. The air was cool, damp.

Adreamavision.

Naked children played with their mothers, mothers soft and daintily shaped. Naked men grew corn for flesh, and barley for blood. Streams, cool and healthy water.

And I traveled west.

And all was sickness and death . . . and the conquest of the earth.

And I looked upon the grid. And there were six dots per square. Men ate men. Boiled them, grilled them, baked them, ate them raw. Men drank, drank from the skulls of other men the blood of these dead. And women ate human flesh.

All was skullsmash violence, cannibal war.

And all was sickness and death . . .

And men put other men to chains . . .

And men ate their slaves when these grew old.