The Skies Do Give Succor

The dark engorged On mordant white blood Fulminous heart in the breach Who among us Would not weep? Etched upon the sable hearth And shadowless light Empty of essence My mind flees from my hand The lewd shapes skirl Through sight and nonsight When my wounds sing I am silent as the night's hold The manifold agonies Of history's beasts rise In feverish, pitiful chorus The dead suddenly thronged The dead suddenly flesh Tear out the dragon's throat Interloper Treader of edges That are not edges Limits in dreaded rasps Interloper Treader of edges That are not edges Limits in dreaded rasps Those spurious gods Lost in the ecstasy of blood rites Their brows scorched and worn thin When my wounds sing I am silent as the night's hold