long lived

Through what phantoms do we 

Invest our snow 

In dialogue with dismembered darkness

A theater for the poets to endure

Under the threat of mirage

We’re salting the Earth

From dusty sawhorse compartments 

Tortured by what is all attractive

That which stands and falls and lingers

On black, sad lips 

By gone articulations 

Stray while reigning tall to tragedy 

Blame laid regards power 

Power to punish

And the punished wander 

Their resentiment merits 

Serpentine suspicion 

Low under to curiosity

Having met the monsters of your cave

Familiar with the consequence of that maze

Shelter, stained