I woke to falling curtains
an omnipotent red, waving
autumn hands on the edge
of time.
...
I Woke To Falling Curtains
I woke to falling curtains
an omnipotent red, waving
autumn hands on the edge
of time.
And of time -
there was none:
zilch-to-the-everlasting-zero.
I heard an iron curtain
close gently over the sky,
whispering as it touched
the dust.
And of dust -
there was plenty:
too much to bare with arms.
Where do the atheists go?
Because I wake to the end
of the world. The closure of
a city, the burning of Paris.
The shadow of Aeneas
as his sail forgets Carthage.
We who can't believe,
don't believe.
Until the end.