The cloth thoughfully

woven, clung to His back.

Olives stirred in the air.

He collapsed over & again--

in Gathsmene.

The sound of serpents were

his graceful apparel, the

sound of serpents were his

graceful apparel.

A living-nightmare wore

Roman garb, a living-nightmare

wore Roman garb.

Perfect peace spit out nails,

& burnt a shroud.