Where No Light Shines

where no light shines

shall flicker the lights of bones ungodly will.

too dark each metaphor that shapes the mouths

of all who stand before the crimson moon.

too soon the shallows rise as antlers fall.

it is fall. it it is here.

it is here too many bare there ill's.

there are butterflies and waterfalls

each more prehistoric than the serpents in our lungs

that bellow louder where the grateful dead shall rise and live again.

yet still the still-born moon

shapes our thirteen lemons through the citrus to the fog.

a vomit of carbon and all are at peace with themselves.

Sunday shelves it's dishes for the Monday morning curse!

we are all but rags and dolls and trolls 

when each day at 2 O'clock our speckled hens

shall lay there eggs beneath the ruby red

of waxwork dummies dumb enough

to chime with the chattering teeth of sentiment;

the alien gods in their cold voice cheer

are we single or just ordinary men?

four hungry men in tandoori mood

watch us smile like kings

and laugh as brothers do;