Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
south

Cruel bindings

The sevants have the power

dog-men & their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors

I'm sick of dour faces
Starong at me from the T.V.

Tower, I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?

Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted

Strangers in the mud

These mutants, blood-meal
for the plant that's plowed
they are waiting to take us into
the severed garden

Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful
comes death on a stranger hour
unannounced, unplanned for

like a scaring over-friendly guest you've
brought to bed

Death makes angels of us all
& gives us wings
where we had shoulders
smooth as raven's
claws

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
until its other jaw reveals incest
& loose obedience to a vegetable law

I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the Giant family.

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