Were the world one Arthur, I'd been feeling
A bit of the Black Knight myself. Come back you coward.I'll bite you to death. I should have thought
He really did deserve to be declared the winner
Not only for utter immunity to commonsense and pain, not to say
Agony, but for miraculously not bleeding to death, for sheer breathing,
Even shouting, in a state where even a zombie could only writhe.
A collection of delusional amputations, empty boasts, and resilient pride
Myself, I drove into the desert of lies to renew my combat
With the odds. A black and red confection lay in a heap
On the highway. Feathers separated themselves from fur, blood, and bone.
Three ravens rose up and fanned out in a spiraling triskele in front of me,
Leaving the stump of time behind, momentarily.
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