They progressed to little bits of dried skin from the bottoms of their feet or their elbows; taking the tiny bits on a finger, they’d lick at them like squares of windowpane acid.
Their hunger grew for more substantial bits of their own flesh. The most intense gourmands carved tiny slices of themselves from their calves or buttocks, and competitions for most creative preparation ensued. They’d serve themselves (but only ever themselves) a paper-thin auto-carpaccio with a miniscule dollop of green tea foam, or skewer a tiny idio-cube over a candle and dip the flesh into an intense salsa of Serrano peppers and heirloom pomegranates.
Magazines and web sites were published about the best ways to cut and prepare one’s own flesh and survive; epicures would describe both their agonies and delectations in excruciating detail.
When asked why they did it, and what made it all worth it for them, they replied, “I just feel more like myself
--Nada Gordon was born in Oakland in 1964 and has lived in Bolinas, San Francisco, Tokyo, and Brooklyn. Her seven books of poetry include VILE LILT and SCENTED RUSHES from Roof Books. A founding member of the Flarf Collective, she has performed widely in the USA and abroad. She teaches English as a Foreign Language at Pratt Institute and loves to make all sorts of things. http://www.spdbooks.org/Producte/9781931824491/vile-lilt.aspx