the devil his due –

this unhinged idolatry makes for a bitter Scene – it

opens the Senses to despair with

mute conditions for survival – who

would stand abreast of the Crowd and howl with

mean derision? These subtle imps

masquerading as victims imply a unity which is

not heard nor felt; we

have become our proper underpinning

here out to sea without a

compass or a guide – We balance

hope on our broad shoulders and communion with

the waves here searching poetic irony

and inclusion – all the stars revolve in a vicious

circle to bring us round the drunken

shores of a high fidelity – Where were you when we

arrived, naked and starving, at your door?

Had you left for us some direction we could not

understand?

Sere glimpses of a hot sun blind us briefly; who

is it who submerges intensity for revelation

here uncovered? We walk the jungle

routes into the depth heaving up words of guttural

promise and intent – Vines snake

their way under the canopy while parrots sing their

uncanny melodies out of sight; We

are your diamond-deserts, your hoped-for oasis, the

plunging of your heart into the fire –

we can sense you warm hands caressing our supple

neck, your almond eyes slanting in a pure release – we

who had bowed down before you

in another life seek remittal of our Sins, a hope

surging for sublime oration – we call to the

medicine-men to heal us in our Sickness, his

hot coals cooling in a sudden mist the steam

issuing in atonement here, again –