Simple, Ignorant and
Violently happy.
A lifetime’s days
In a daze.
A crippled ornament,
Deliriously mad, he
Threads a love theme
Through all his plays.
He’ll leave all his senses slowly
’Til each falls away with a sigh,
And the last of these will be Glory,
As the living lorn smiles, he’ll die.

But pause for a second to sing
And point the way with his eyes
To where the children of Art-her Kings,
Dance drunk round a furnace of cries.