histories pressed on the walls
the thin face now
rushing through the traces
And my muses Like Valkries
ride....the horse tired

the cracking brace

The mill torn down
full of its nightlong noise
the rippling twenties
roof...its lights..
its beepers of the
back up loaders

and the snow sifting
down through the
cherry tree
the water bed cupping
us
Bryan Ferry soothing
us in our drink
our depths
swallowed
the night of dreams
rising up
like a slow motion
vivid nightmare

lost
and we are
still lost

found and find
us

like a garden still
flowering
the last garland
for the window
or the grave

besotted
and sorrow
we give a finger
to tomorrow!!