Lying crusted and decayed on a long, white road
the dead air speaker coughed its final instructions
"ladies and gentlemen, soak your sorrows in this final moment,
the whistles of hades are ringing above the countertops
the ale is warm, fires have slowed to frozen waves
hail hail the speaker. long may he live
nero, Ghandi-ji, Stalin, forze milano
stacks of books may burn but the truth will remain
inside frigid hearts and dead souls
these are the new lieutenants, the sorrow mongers
taken from catalogues that the rich discarded, wrapped in italian silk
fro fro the horses challenge each other, girders stretched to breaking
through wind tunnels and the arches of light we battle
molecules of rain dissipating the dust that gathers
around old, dying lungs.
strange lights float about the slave decks
rusted skulls through bleeding
grave-yellow heroin veins bursting open
creating stops in the narratory
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