live at the Apollo and they shouted
after all day being dazzled dazzling
it’s night for Apollo that damned lyre
of course the he and she gods
the queer gods the polyamorous of every hue
play the phantoms
of the me and you
from our blister pack of sorrows
we pop out our dei ex machinis
of the night, cry
crane me down Scotty
lower me into your black
incinerator of dreams
where the hell deep sparkles
election smoke chokes
and nothing’s everywhere
darkling through the mauve that was my mind
I scry your being unkind
to what’s left of the you you left behind
and now that nothing left occurs
in nothing much at all
it’s time to call the sun god’s favours in
improbable but likely to be true
here comes yet another dawn
for me and you