One must speak now on the
renunciation
Of throats pulsing raw dark speech each
Word a jolt of absence an aborted
sound
One must call down earthward smoke
spit
Out and abandoned by alcoholic angels
Cheap talk piss beer tavern on the
hill
One must accept the straight wind riptides
Of holy drunkenness and swallow
thick wads
Of joy feeling night after night’s a
holiday
One must believe in the sorrow of
damp cities
Drop by drop the piecemeal storm of failure
All of this is that which comes into
the world
When one imagines a voice carved in
marble
A song so far away a song so vast and
true
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