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| The cathedral buried beneath under cathedral is where the glibbest instrument lay And there it rests, exhausted, While in the visible room, a band continues to play. The insensitive diviner, feeling ill. The beetle rolled over and time stopped Suddenly the gospel pages multiplied And my entire bookshelf reversed itself. I don't want to be the melody I prefer the choking sow Who, while taking every care to parry Has wound up with her head in the ground And each of us choking on the cannonball without a sound Can't help but sleep until it's dark And winter weighs on every bough We watch you as you drown And reach up to us on your way down You're hanging from your toes in a tiffany redoubt Come back and I'll tell you more... |
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