Far deep from the light of bodies

dungeon deep in my beat routine

I see the shadows of squirrels

pale passing across my long

rectangular windows

and the lank late days of summer

that lay there on the rug dying

echoes a sweet Spanish guitar

her hair nonpareil

the stone chancer

of bridges that slope and dive

is gambling his razor's edge

in a stone mirror

the bright shades part

financier part necromancer

wax twigs in a butterfly mask

some Joseph Cornell scenario

put a torch to my soul

from the cracked heavens

she was walking on docks

of gliding glory

in the chemical we call night

she was the panther in oil

moon that kept us up all night long

with a lady's promises

and a whore's kisses

black metal as the bandwidth

cutting saturnine time

bringing a mountain down

to a scrim of canvas

being the mountain brought down.