Tuesday, April 06, 2010


And still, the horror in your speech
Encircles me, surrounds this place.
Wishing upon freedom from trouble
My heart leaps. I see rain
On windows of a bus, I'm
Within, watching my feelings.
Afar away, and above, Christ observes
The poison mineral scattering
From your harried, tattered innocence.
And this spirit, elusive past you, uncannily cunning,
Resounds across my shoulder,
Already was behind me and beneath me
and before I arrived and below, this force.
This force, escapes, escaping unconquered,
Still at large and hard at work out of sight
With, most certainly, the upper hand somewhere
Held high and mighty
And we have been, indeed, its playthings all along
And still nobody is moving
Relentless, everyone listening
Hark, doom, lo, is nigh!