"You're all the fucking enemy,
Another sign of the plague within"
Voices from a mountain, peacock in the sky
Under a lavender-imbrued
Black vainglorious veil so visible
Light my mirror with the tumbling glow
Of your perfect bathic baetyl
Ocellated god spoke to the crowd
Through tremolo bells from a city window
While from the hills out back, not quite as loud
Came the horses' more uneven tremolo
Inside: mornings, writings, hope,
Reproductions of the most famous Van Gogh
Outside: only my scotoscope
It was night, out here
And always would be