He cried to the sun to be no more A part of his burning misery. He cried to the brooding owl "No more Shake down your bony glance, your fingering looks 5 That alter my heart's procession and my blood's course." And he cried to the moon, the scolding moon, "No more the tripwire of my conscience be Threading your silver circuit through eternity; Climb down, climb down from your bald perch: 10 Come taste the blood shreds on the ground."
From the collection "Unimagined Things"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.