Wet dreams and night terrors, trooping
'tween huddled dolls' houses, the figures
of fantasy and phobia bellow and screech.
Storming calls, misted breath and deaf
each to each, drenched in sound.
Flooding bodies toward the dawn of saints.
Angels under streetlights. Their keepers:
priests so straight-frocked stagger
with disgusted grins of stomaches
protesting Seventh Heavens and fire spirits,
their arms extended, their crimson robes flowing,
spin under stars to the fractured tune of--
A hundred open doors tonight, leering mouths
spewing wails of guitars, drums, tinkling glass,
tremors of asphalt for the demigods' dance,
thrashing through main street; this place
of passing today bridges worlds; heaven, hell,
and the Toy City, one musicbox refrain.
October 31st, 2003. Madison, Wisconsin. | 
