The night despairs.  Im alone beneath the random
arrangement of constellations and I dont care

The presents here taking me by the throat.  How well the
emptiness becomes me as the great ship departs full-
blown through a lid in my skull.  A rusted mariners
compass.  In the basin of my fountain dead leaves lie
under a layer of autumn frost.  Listless and numb I bare
the marks of this raw and drifting continent

The night despairs of looking at itself.  In the mirror I see
the red eyes of my demon behind me and I dont care

I come and go down here in the stupefying barrens of
infinity where a brutal hand has tossed the stars.  A
severed statue wing on a path leveled by fire.  I stand still
undisturbed by the blade wedged in my back.  A frozen
moon-ghost broken by exhaustion Im barred from the
entrance to the city of desire

The night despairs lame like a lion with glass in its paw.
Im turned to stone and I dont care

Angel-haunted music plays.  Far from here the absolute
pitch of the pure and tempered scale hovers over cliffs
over the river.  Every second my heart used to beat waiting
for an aria to take me to a flower bed circled with
candlelight.  Now Im deaf to the voices mounting.  Under
my ceiling a pendulum swings

The night despairs of the darkness of the hours to come.  I
take my wounded light to sleep and I dont care
 

©1999, from LOST CEILINGS (Telephone Books)