I'm down here with the scum of the earth

where I belong.  There is time yet

to eclipse your world of lies,

by working in darkness.

New demons to trump old gods,

topple rotting regimes.

Rise in the sand like a panther.

Recreate the sun, only to die

under its invigorated blaze.

Try to break the lunar circuit,

get a refracted spleen.

Persist without reason.

Yield to nothing.

Clotted metals from destroyed planets,

gathering to shine in unruly hair

and make bloody ball bearings,

flowing over surprised flesh

and stealing tender organs

from this wounded labyrinth

of racing blood,

clouds pooling in wounded space

to form celestial escapees

against the limits of milk and its math,

thrashing at the darkened witless membrane,

making the intelligence of love

ripple under bombs like water.

I remember the failure of space,

a trickster prancing down a beam of fate

the costume of the goddess

trashed by bleeding cities

shining in seductive fragments

walking halls that I don't know

to appear here in the courtyard

of the frozen aristocracy

aligned with topaz eyes

from only lunar skies

and the silver lawns

of sleeping pawns

in the lines of a lunatic's palm.