i sing the body eclectic, and mourn the failing day
as the luscious night unfolds a myriad of shadow
and pours the hearth of nightfall upon the weary.
i glean no good from my hard liquor, but sup
the dregs of my shark fin soup and wither, expanding...
i command the barge of my going to the yonder pier
and peer into the cauldron of my fickle mist.
the first blink of a marble statue must be for love
and i see now, the dreadful splendor of a constant.
the unfocused fist of a star on the horizon
and the stillness of a riot in my lungs.