***
They showed me a piece of his old guitar
Like it was some holy saint's last relic
Someone had polished it till it shone, reflecting
Not its museum pedestal, but its horror vision
Of a mind's allegory of his life in hell.
I saw a brass angel with stained-glass wings
And a music-box voice that sang for me
The broken fountain pipes at his feet, serpent-twisted
Spewed silver mercury to flow to the silver river
A hundred stairsteps down, through carven waterfalls
Reflecting the nuclear-orange sky's black clouds
And blue and green shards of the angel's wings
Catch the orange light and fling brown glimmers
Slowly sails a golden boat on the silver river
With a flamingo on the bow and a partridge on the stern
And the lady stood up to raise the barque's sail
A red velvet lateen rig, catching the brimstone wind
Her hair was red as Sol's dying breath in the sky
Her robe was black and silver, starry as the night
She never dropped a single tear to cross the many graves
And climbed the steps, one by one, as slowly she came
In her hand a lamp she bore, carved from a galaxy
Burning the oil of supernovae, it gave forth blue flame
When my brazen angel she met, she lit the mercury--
From the fountains blue fire ran to the silver river
And like water, everywhere it chose to go
Behind the blue flame left leaping life
Through flame she walked, unscathed as an islander
And embraced my brazen angel with her life.
His hell falling away in burning pieces, he shuddered--
The psychedelic wings shattered, and color was freed
Brass turned to flesh flushed with love's blood
No more would my angel sing for me, he lived!
And angry, she turned to me, with upraised palm--
To fling me from his mind.