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Cyclops 324
(For Malcom McClaren)
A dancing force is enough to bring any god out of hiding
We remember his hand beyond the sea
Where ships trying their worth against
Craven grey storms explain their bondage to the shore.
In this way of knowing we come to these fields
Masters of intention but lacking in a greater tongue
We are betrayed by our need for vengeance.
The broken bodies of the poor are carried out of the land
By citizens of stone-they find their way, blind, through the gloom
There is dust enough for waiting
And waiting for dawn has become the custom.
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