Dreams Into Beast, Chimney Rock, Nc 1980 Poem by Warren Falcon

1

And what shall I cry out?

My impotency? My useless rage?
Then why be forgiven when Heaven's Will stays?
Undaunted, there are no cracks in Its ceiling,
only Light from a million suns to harm,
and a rustling of wings in corridors,
and a thousand voice chorus crying out,

No arms! No arms!

I've been to hell
and flaunt it like a gypsy's skirt.

I've been to hell
with a hundred tongues of metal.

2

All creatures of clay prepare for troubled sleep.

There is no reason for anger I tell the air.

Vines coil and hiss in the night wind, Liar. Liar.


Who is beast here?

3

It is no swan.

Rape or dream, whatever,
it rages through the storm
but has nothing to do with
the day's dead bird

The monstrous thrumming
might be thunder,
might be boulders
in the flooding stream

whatever it is
stings my wall
and, on the other
side, the bed

where my sleeping
fills with feathers
and blood