Falling Down the Sky

The Maenad ___________________________________________________________________ Smoking mirror of ire Dire equation maiden Prognosticator of uncertainty What foreknowledge have you for me Fresh coffee, clean linen, and gentle woodfire Or flesh peeling from the heat of pyre . Not fire but hot oil rain An acute, strangely Victorian brown down. Flaming Oil and Burning Woods, Full of after-henceforth mood Rising sun, running mars Bring your rubber, underwire Umbrella and let the oil run down the sides and burn circles around a Post-apocalypse from 1896 Street strewn with ruins of carriage cars . What face the trembling muse shall show now? ___________________________________________________________________ The Maenad…

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