beyond the gates of heaven, the top brass must be fondling secretaries,nthe unstrung harp is strumming in the heretic's uterus.nthe clock radio at her bedside has gone haywirenor so says the neurologist putting out for nightline.nit leaves an infant king on her shoulder each nightnand an unready sweetness in her small lamb womb.ncould be weird science delivering government sunsets to an accident with microwaves,nyoung, holy nymphette dream in polaroids of white noise worships all silken and breathy...nnam/fm pastor zaps antenna congregates,nthe seventh caller wins a free first orgasm.nsecond prize is one of those stupid electric toothbrushes.nlittle radio pops knobs, made bullets in the middle of a ball game,nwouldn't an immaculate conception,nfry all of the circuits in a ten dollar radio shack junker?nnwhat makes these creatures' chests to heaving?nthat's some reception they've got down there,nfor a miracle from the ionospherento gently land just below the low slung bible belt.