Eumaeus 635
A ladder against my night window
a peculiar gospel of forgetting
a dreaming stairwell in an electric
bedroom
the simple fashion of assassination
moves me to claim safety in the storms of
bliss
and carve fame from doubtful fire
and loveless smiles
to witness the wild and windblown shore
to hear the eternal itchy sirens
to finally fall victim to their
expectation
and gain admittance to the waves no more.
636
Diego's king
that man of Spain
surprised by teeth
made by decency
wouldn't be so passionate
had he answered his own reflection
where he bears the glowing of abandon
of pianos and executions
and rumors of vengeance without dreaming
his Velazquez daughters
rather muddled in his pockets
watched over by that frumpy idiot
the tiny lady eyeless,
victim of gravity.
*Tom Waits- The Fall Of Troy
