Where the stoicism met mercurial wings,
And tragic circumference of eventuality,
The battered redeemer was calling into pits.
halo of red light
Candles of tallow
Hung on walls of many hopeful iris,
Like great maps of humanity’s color
Illuminated of the boar.
Below the glow the recluse
As alone in this
World, as is the world alone
Among innumerable stars and
Scorched eternal things,
Of which finite subjects populate
The far-flung shores,
Cells that die,
Bones that break.
So swaddle about you your coat of many
empty your ashtray of
Recognize the stillness at the center
Of every beast, man, or lady lurks
Manchurian pageantry, so be on your toes
And say nothing quickly.