The gaslight’s trepidatious pomp authors
Uncertain flashes of genius trapped
Like drowned insects in honeyed amber
Or demon out of human flesh unwrapped.

This unhallowed moon that ascends above
These streets mired deep in human ordure
Howling from morning’s unrequited love
And birth-pang born we are the moon’s creature.

Unjudged while bathed beneath this waxen light
With undredged hungers in this place released
No guilt to mar this wretched joy, this rite,
This consecration of man and the beast.

But feast and fete of meat and human bone –
No god of man could ever this condone.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s