The gelid night hath come: starless runes
Evanescing amidst the waning of the sepulcher,
Ruthless concrete maws beneath the sea of lovelorn
Rains; the thunder of the brutal charger, unwept the
Groaning cannibal, diluvian hordes whereon the
Antichrist reigns. A woman exits a Prada store
Having spent over a quarter of a million dollars in
An hour, the worthless items placed in the trunk of a
Chauffeured car – each bag dripping with the blood
Of ravaged lambs. Chartered minds faltering, sealed
Off from the sacred meadow, thrice drowned the
Word, thrice downed the penitent; the Harlem River
Crouches catlike in its stillness, black glass roaming
Beyond the sands of undrawn time. And beyond
That inimitable mere of green, the primordial hawk
Locked its eyes on wayward man: another book
Burned, a new addict placed in chains. The stock-
Broker, the Nazi doctor, the hoodlum and the knave –
Each cocked and snarling in that empyrean of the
Damned. A lone waif weeps upon the cold wet ground,
Abandoned and forlorn, ignored by passersby who
Crave only for more lucre, the Delphic flame flickering
Into an eye ground down in sorrow. And within those
Stygian bowels of the insensate beast: shattered
Loveless souls, roving without purpose – trapped in
The Devil’s screen were the shades of the anti-human.