Crow's Account of St George

From the Life and Songs of the Crow by the Überpoet Ted Hughes.

He sees everything in the Universe
Is a track of numbers racing towards an answer.
With delirious joy, with nimble balance
He rides those racing tracks. He makes a silence.
He refrigerates an emptiness,
Decreates all to outer space,
Then unpicks numbers. The great stones fall open.
With the faintest breath
He melts cephalopods and sorts raw numbers
Out of their dregs. With tweezers of number
He picks the gluey heart out of an inaudibly squeaking cell - [...]

Crow now realizes that two demons ("with a face flat as a snail Or the underface of a shark" and "a horrible oven of fangs"; the other "[a] bird head, Bald, lizard-eyed, the size of a football, on two staggering bird-legs") are observing him. A bloody fight ensues until the "opposition collapses", leaving behind a "bubbling mess".

What a collection of poems!