“Fahrenheit Vampire Mystery Cat”

Through precise crystal
The crowds grope in a ragged circle
If he/ the poet (the end of this) may tell
It never tempts the serpent

The serpent
Folk whose greasy world mocks mine
Each morning in chaotic circle
Winds dark & pungent whirl splay can’t do crystal

It circle
Beltane hold crystal
Hands morning precise serpent
Crowds crowding

Ragged chrome poet, away through the pungent
Grope of black serpent
Having never emerald crystal
And never cat will come. Break circle.

10 17 04


Listening to- Digital Moonscapes.