streamers
thousand streamer flaunted airs
play unequal games with fluid mobile atmospheres
like coloured snakes that flee from quakes
and crumbling boulders rolling as the wildest warhorse
dash upon the garrisons
projecting towers and gracefull porticos
shocked by the din and clash
wrapped in smoke and danger
hold their hands dished about their ears
to the bronze braying horns that challenge all will
discordant challenges that announce out across the plains and loins
mimicked in the disparate hours of lingering agonies of whining death
fallen screaming weeping aneath the swarthy clouds of night
its muddy eve oozing blood along the sky
when a curfew falls like curtains
then do we collect the widows tribute
then the smell of sulphur on the torches
does collect the biers
and send a hundred dark streamers to the flaunted air
and off they go to play unequal games
and gambol in the fluid distance
that of recollection
once young friends
whose smears upon our souls
highlight that time is here and now
there is no relived time except in books or visions
as time is only consequence
which no man may reverse or forward on