Sunday, September 28, 1997


riding down the night, identified, brought out, like separated dough
from the midst, cleared, innocent, a saved remnant to the opened space
witnesses witnessing
splitting the skies, breaking through the heavens, the host
like a finger of the endless, the swarm silently flies
a great thick lethal myriad, like the color of beetles descending
singleminded, with purpose as a cloud upon the place left behind
throughout the midst of they who have eaten on sold time
who have made the deal with death
who have looked in the liver to bring up omens
even as they sit falsely secure without seeing before a thousand thousand eyes
without healing in the bank, without resurrection hidden in the bed
measured, without refuge
without negotiation, the reaper comes to collect

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