Madness moves me That curtain is T O R N I scattered it in purple shatters on the shadow across the sidewalk. from the moon. The whippoorwill S I N G S out of tune to match a bad harmonica and a rusty piccolo. The box that held it all was auctioned off There was no highest bidder. The city trembles from the urgency of need And none will make an offer. Madness falls in L O V E with unrequited horror and gives birth to pandemonium which is marked down eighty-five percent But only if the flags are flying. Outside comes in from the cold through windows with no curtains stepping over purple stains on badly threadbare carpets while the loom goes right on weaving *ljm