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