Wearing The Dark
Wearing the dark like a stocking of night tasting the broth
in shadows of my hungering pen. Sloughing my aged skin
with dermatological reflux. Stuck in the bowery drinking
Gone are the fairies of my dreams as I gave myself to the
piccolos. Each a melody as I listen to the wind instruments
sing. From the voice of Bocephus, "Whiskey Bent and Hell
Bound." Carrying my soul to jubilee.