Her warmth had fallen on silence, in spite of all promises. . .
rank after rank they bled, according to their caste
each rank a source for the next of savage harvest.

Even the moon has its own snail,
Gnomic, removed
Under miles of water, its pale

The room is dying honey and lemon rind.

I dreamed I bad been dreaming.
And sadness did descend.
And when from the first dreaming

When you vanish up the staircase
Of the octaves

I know there is a window

In a deck chair
under castellated clouds
Campari and tonic

My beloved Helios is leaving, see
how the hem of his robe slips from the tent
as Chaos’ daughter approaches, such

The courtroom, clad in wood veneer,
could be a lesser pharaoh’s tomb
equipped for immortality.

The narrow cell contains a bunk,
steel desk mounted on the wall,
toilet, sink, and television;

Not days of anger
but days of irritation,
light through dirty glass,