T'ward blinding hollow falling, now we pause
in halcyon days, on other blogs to brood.
A fado lilt as grilse in iron gray jaws
boil in our heavy metal Pluto blood,
and out of Xibalba sail in tattered fleets
the byblows. Then i parse the transit time
yashmak-through, no coruscating sweets
handed beyond, and know a shiver. Crime
to write again, dent the dented brow
a wallful. Qlipoth conquered by a pen
of bull. For these last days desires allow,
let those who spurn reality build spacemen.
Like Shalimar i go, and i go wrong;
like malachite i stay, and i am young.
