I do me a
	forgotten peacock
from lustful troves of treasure
  your eternal errands,
  the brigands of the mountain

* * *

zealot,
		these bodies
	you will burn
but how shall you

	dispose of our thoughts?

* * *

I saw planets in the sky
	falling slowly it seemed,
galaxies dropping like withered petals
	upon a field of renown

* * *

chaos gives the gift of madness,
dreams subsist-
the descent of memories
	into places starless

* * *

I am not
shall not be what I am
shall not be

---

16 Renford Road (two)
Page 29