taste of fish in his mouth,
can't dream, not even a wish
this is truly a golden dawn,
amber wind shot through
an atmosphere of trapped flies,
buzzing consciousness along sixplus octaves
stilled by a gray hand, gray light, motionless intensity
speechless, speechless,
a nation of angels that rub their wings together
unpreened feathers drifting in an expanse,
the silence of a bewildered audiences
from their razored shoulder blades.
poles through the backs
make us rise and fall around the center,
our mouths anguished open
like they held pain or sugarcubes in the center
but the eyes are closed, the music endless
got his wish for a goldkilling dusk
too cold for insects, much less for the sun.
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