On its face at first blush
It’s just crazy enough
If it were a lark it would fly
To be howling within
Round a ravenous sin
While the face is a whitewashed lie
*
On its face at first blush
You might not feel its touch
At its core it just tastes with your eye
Then it’s more real to you
Than the spike through your shoe
Each betwinkling roll of the die
*
On its face at first blush
The World is concussed
In the dark staggering blind
It followed a scent
Down the alley it went
And met what it had in Mind
The Hour is Coming, and Now Is 