Dead moon at the center,
Radio on, night.
Headlights on the water,
rippling,
Derailed--in dark fog, derailed.
Dove to death- in foul weather, to
Blackest art is what we deal,
Drawing chalk lines in your
Saturn turns the day to devil light,
a meliorating, monstrous satellite.
Shaded,
You backwards, snake-bitten sinner
You trumpet-believer-sounder
You lushed-up, s
My prisoner I trusted not to bend,
Didn't wince or cry.
And,
The night,
The demon night,
Occults the day,
And we're all done
(With the
When he sits you down, when he makes you eat.
When
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