Monday, October 02, 2006


by Edward Rehmus

To trap the Mind with nets of

tranquil gardens

Is to unlock the damned Tower's secrets.

The Endtime goes dropping through the capitals as

they come chopping off,

& the moment of Madame La Guillotine

is reincarnated

while the Aeon melts.

Headlessness is rampant & quartered

on Eternity's red escutcheon

Wheras Reality for all its quicksilverability &

flimsiness &

elephant leaping

Still sticks to the soul like thistle's burrs

And the shifting gates

rise and recede in the Abysses like

nothing more than telepath poles

outside a brain window

And the heads planted with eyes still blinking

in the rotting earth...

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