A visceral hatred for the rules, for the way the world works,
And not for the beings mired in it, killing and eating,
That's an ethic at least a little worth considering.
Last night, Draco and Orion seemed to both be vying
To kill the crescent moon nestled between Venus and Mars.
Play me something more than silence at the apocalypse,
I asked an ethnomusicologist, but he refused.
In my skull, a hardanger undertoned fanitullen
While I hung on to the window and counted two hundred
Self-generated lights in the dark, glowing silently.
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