dead horizon
hypnotic rays of losing sun
entrance the findings of the man
enclosed beyond the thought to run
and hide in timid failures
before the steps retraced from fear
succumb to stares from lecherous ears
advancing, holding wooden spears
and then retreating deadly
for ripples on a deep lagoon
reflect the sounding of the moon
the sun in stumble to its tomb
of a dead horizon
with no one there to pacify
defame, cremate or crucify
with birth and death to liquefy
in non-existent faith
and doors unopened, windows closed
the rights, the wrongs retreat their flow
far underneath the breast of coal
in bins of losing tonnage
in humorously laughing clouds
who spit their jokes among the crowds
who spit back curses long and loud
and declare a challenge open
and mystic cups still overflown
with beer and wine and caustic soda
long before the junkie shows
that he holds all the answers
