Through the Creeping Glass

I.

Evening's primal tide
pulls us to her dark girth
the sun's heat rise severs
our umbilicals of birth
the shade of night falls, a filter
slivered into a vertical pupil opening
silent unseen gates through which
a predatory bestiary steps
into this, our world
after the curtains
of dusk are drawn
the theater of sleep
projects fractured visions
within our domed cathedrals
while outside, IN THE GREAT
WALL OF THE WILD the darker
side of thy lacine thrives
and the children are trained
to walk in the sun all their lives
and to run from the stories of wolves
that are lies cried out by the elder
and weaker in power who've been
given three tries at building
their enamel tower black
on the landscape of dream
scaring the crows away
with a crucifix loom
as its shadow leans out
while the Sun's going down
and the majority of the whole
of men awaken from their
nightmare's compounded
gravity to walk around
in the lightness of the Sun
each one a beast
with a mask of complacency
and a mime without individuality
a king stripped of sceptre
or a jester tricked back
into forgetting to remember
he's a member of the cast
hypnotized into performing
the dream that is played
in the cathedral of wilderness
for the seated rows of hooded monks,
reptiles watching themselves.