to find the finest things things the night permits needs words & flesh subsumed, an alchemy of second sight from chaos yet a smidgen mined of ecstasy through horror sung, the pleasure of a mortal realm where ripe fruit strangely falls unhung, sweet taste beneath the bitter elm. whose will can guide the hunter's barge, forecast his raucous wanderings? a raven or a dove in charge of carrion and olive sprigs, a turkish van set swim for shore, as black and white as ancient lore