Confess unfailingly you sing
for the secrets in me baritone Wanderers Nachtlied.
You calm the waters and still the wind.
Lightning strikes for the moon, the stars branch out
the Unknowable higher still is the mother
Rhea is the thunderbolt.
The tympanon sounds the heart doesn’t know it will stop beating.
We don’t have conversations we have put the fear of god into you
terrible, ugly dreams we sell them to each other for cheap.
Take the bus to Union sometime in the spring any old day
any old time, I wait missed each other the last three years,
kept our coins from Charon and from Morpheus our dreams.
Hidden from all things the rocks and the sea
even Tiresias cannot prophesize our words. The oculus
shines like an heirloom the living and the dead.
