‘Raptor’ and Other Poems

Kyrie

10 31 2020

Samhain, and a Blue Moon's near red Mars.
The days grow shorter and more hard hours are added to our nights.
The angel of history feels useless; she told me
in a nightmare filled with the pornography of sadness and its delights.
Sing kyrie, sing kyrie eleison;
none of us should suffer this darkness alone.

Foundlings on earth, from hell or heaven,
at night our shadows show us what will happen, and in the morning, rising,
we become again their vital obstruction.
Who abandoned us is a useless question unworthy of all the arguing.
Sing kyrie, sing kyrie eleison:
May all earth's deadly resentments be done.

The wind picks up and whistles in the woods.
Days pass fast as breaks in hastened clouds.
The angel of history shrugs
...