"Attach your drmons to my chariot"
"The magic lantern show has begun."
And I look to see strange, shapeless shadows
Careening on the wall.
It is then that I find twined inconsolability
In solemn death and reckless grave.
For escape is just a violent outburst
That is never certain.
The wolves who circled each other
Outside the tent
Now circle me.
And the snake oil salesman
Finding rhythm in his own words
Wraps a deathwatch of coarse wool
Around my shivering shoulders.
I am of irregular stone, now powder.
But then I recognize the heat smell
Of rusted radiators
And hear an old woman cry shrilly.
I listen for the sound of God
In this fife story tenement.
Suddenly shots ring out.
And I briefly wonder
Where it is that I will make
My unexpected appearance,
And hope I'll waken to waitless days.