The Return

Smells of sweetness
Heavy night, laughter was heard talking, under the spotlight and
Throwing her rider strewn amongst the
List'less crowd, outside
Shed from a soft powdery husk
Milk teardrops quell the alarm
Like the laying-on of hands
In the garden where
Peaceful sleep is disturbed, the
Mirrored footsteps fall
Of those walking behind in
Midnight a burnt image
A burning oil lamp, watery in the sun
And the State blooming comes and goes
Cold white fingers, cracked, caressing
Opening windows, to competing eyes
Onto every intimate scene
That which was beauty becomes; cold, diseased
Haunted, put on a stick
Placed where the good flock passes between
Sands, shifting and wild, crossing these silver rivers
Listening intently to the fevered, pallid servant of Zuza.

The Battle

We, by the riverside
In the shimmering heat
In the conflicting emotions then the
Hunter's repose then the
Desires for freedom unleashed
Heard like distant lands.
Mammoth forms echoing
In blue sky traced with white
On the road, the taste of earth
Our swift advance
Clubs in hand, daggers brutal, we are
A fatal petal from the falling tree.

The Victory

Dust and sunlight poured over him
On Judea the circus demon
There is a blood of light, it had said
Plugged into the heart
Amongst the rare walls
The emptiness of space
The pale faces,
Distant light of foreign fields
Amongst rare walls the maps
And continents of thought
We are, back at the beginning again
When Zuza once more sleeps
Whether dormant or deceased
For good we cannot tell
If these future hands will let slip the vase
With attention caught by flowery, empty, sullen words
Like colors dulled by evening light.