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  1. an american prayer albümünden,

    wow, i'm sick of doubt
    live in the light of certain
    cruel bindings.
    the servants have the power
    dog-men and their mean women
    pulling poor blankets over
    our sailors.

    i'm sick of these dour faces
    staring at me from the tv
    tower, i want roses in
    my garden bower; dig?
    royal babies, rubies
    must now replace aborted
    strangers in the mud
    these mutants, blood-meal
    for the plant that's plowed.

    they are waiting to take us into
    the severed garden.
    do you know how pale and wanton thrillful
    comes death on a strange hour
    unannounced, unplanned for
    like a scaring over-friendly guest you've
    brought to bed.
    death makes angels of us all
    and gives us wings
    where we had shoulders
    smooth as raven's

    no more money, no more fancy dress
    this other kingdom seems by far the best
    until it's other jaw reveals incest
    and loose obedience to a vegetable law.
    i will not go
    prefer a feast of friends
    to the giant family