| Every
|
| Every angel
|
| That drips
|
| From the faucet
|
| In
|
| To the sink
|
| Tumbles down
|
| Down the drain
|
| And deep into the ground
|
| The choirs resound in
|
| Resound in an empty room
|
| As Angels seep into the earth
|
| And no
|
| And no one
|
| No one noticed this coffin heaving
|
| These earthen boards thick
|
| Thick with deceiving
|
| And
|
| And it swallowed
|
| Up
|
| Up the spirit
|
| In the mire
|
| Of division
|
| As man
|
| As mankind
|
| Looked on and glutted itself
|
| Upon derision trampled underfoot
|
| The seeping of the soil
|
| As man
|
| As mankind
|
| Looked on and grumbled ever
|
| Louder with the toil of every day and every year
|
| And every century
|
| Lost in thought
|
| Or thought is lost
|
| On the creeping multitude of heaven
|
| They could never see beyond
|
| And so there was nothing beyond to see
|
| One after the next for ever and ever
|
| Stepping over the statues of gods
|
| Lying broken in the streets like tyrants
|
| The cynical heart too oft forgot
|
| Its blood in course of vein
|
| As circulated phantoms drain from
|
| Spout to sink to silence
|
| And vigilance betrayed by neglect
|
| But uttered not in defiance
|
| Sleep, the uncloaked sleep of doves
|
| In mortality
|
| Drawing down the shade of years
|
| Over the monstrosity
|
| Shutting the lids and shutting the sight
|
| Bridging the break and shunning the life
|
| The Earth entire has become a wasteland
|
| A marsh intense, a swamp of flatland
|
| Not so flat as desolate
|
| And deep with poison and with regret
|
| I cry aloud as I am pull’d beneath
|
| And a body hangs over the shower rod
|
| Like a towel left out to dry
|
| Drips call out their protest to a dark and empty room
|
| Sadness decorates the silence
|
| As a gathering of the gloom
|
| My cries are the echoes of a long-lost suicide
|
| An angel bleeding out, a dove that has died |