Oh shepherd of three-odd billion years

bring 3’oclock coffee for its paragon

 

For the light slants at an angle at this hour

it is redshifting, in the atmospheric ether

I begin to hear the music of the death dance playing

 

from within, while on the streets below

men march in rhythm to a backwards hymn

This is what the green around the capitol is for

 

Sounds to be made, that they may be diffuse

and pain no more. On the mall, starlings

peck for food in gravel dust. I feel the urge to eat

 

create, and caulk the holes in time

where I do not exist. I would gladly pay

whatever mileage lets me live another day

 

My homunculus is lower, even, than the bladder

Please God, bring me the holy nectar!

caffeine to soothe the weary stillness