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
It’s not something you touch
It’s the thing that you taste with your eye
It’s more real to you
Than the rock in your shoe
That twinkling 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 