before the flickering fire, cracked bone dice rattle
they lead between the worlds
to crystal b.a.l.l.s gorged on lies
half-truths are none at all in clearing the air
your future still awaits, meek and willing
in morning"s scowling light, the Gypsy camp quiets
turn away you won"t see the poor and persecuted
you have cloaked in mystery, caravans and well-traveled tales
Wait forever, my dear
for a bloated, blood moon full
from forlorn howls, the s.h.a.ggy man whose beast is
not contained, who pursues you, yet tames
his bite, sees, scents through lupus rage
your n.o.bility does not hear his soulful whimper
prey to mange and blood-sated fleas
his flight, blinded, betrayed by Moon
wolf-pack tracks, slavering to kill
nature"s aberration he cries out, lunatic
I am not welcome anywhere, two halves that cannot join
you fancy to have leashed the n.o.ble beast
the wolves, or he alone, would hunt you if they could
Search ever on, my dear
the shambling, bolted simulacrum is not the sum
but the beginning, a mind hinged to flesh
monster made by machines diabolical
project of a madman who, in creating life, honours it not
the divine escapes as you try to simulate by writing
reconstruct the myths; believe them toys to sunder
yet born a byblow of contrived machinations
these frankensteins serve to scar the pages
journal entries a.s.sembled for pity and distress
what sorrowful imaginings, Victorian preoccupation
hoping to be discovered and saved from certain fate