A Feast Of Friends

Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South

Cruel bindings
The sevants have the power
dog-men & their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors

I'm sick of dour faces
Starong at me from the T.V.
Tower, I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
for the plant that's plowed

They are waiting to take us into
   the severed garden
Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful
   comes death on a stranger hour
   unannounced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you've
   brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
   & gives us wings
where we had shoulders
   smooth as raven's
      claws

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
until its other jaw reveals incest
& loose obedience to a vegetable law

I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the Giant family