Bloodied slabs of meat and huge flabs of female buttocks. Such is the visual poetry of this pungently graphic assault on the viewing senses in "Taxidermia," which is likely to be viewed in its bloody entirety by only thoracic surgeons and maniacs. To spare our gentle and highly-desirable reading demographic from the tawdry minutiae of the plot (such that it is), suffice it to say that "Taxidermia" bursts along via a series of bodily functions: rutting, vomiting, slogging, farting, copulating and every other "ing" too impolitic to print.

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