PROPHECY
Chaos in the jungle
gym, chaos in black cars.
You will fall in love
with a series of rooms.
The sun will open up
your heart, even during
wintertime. Sunspots
in your darkest watches,
shadows on the daybed.
Music plays as you leave
paradise and falls silent
on your return. Chaos in
the alphabet, chaos on
your tongue. You will fall
in love with a series of
lamps, with a currency
valued on light, not gold.
Black cars on the Western
skyline slide open their doors.
The moon will crack up
if you hold very still, falling
in love with a series of
moods. And there comes
a point when the dancing
stops. You will contend
with what a monster is,
wolf intervals in belfries.
Chaos in the Western
scale, chaos in the sun.
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