Iapetos Writes in Erasmus' Dream (excerpt)

From out o’ the wishing well
They emerged, spotted in black hides
of mouths flickering with flamingo flame
And by long iron leaps they flew
Into our world through the red eye
Of new sadness, of ash and confetti

With hands pressed together
Across oceans now they gallop like thunder
Creating palaces of disaster where they pause
To suckle the black milk of our mother’s breast
From whose own blood, and hair
They make a thin cake, a currency of blood
On one side “War” the other “Peace”
All as in the image of their dream

Beyond the far hills, not obscured by rust
Lies a cave, cool and remote
Where sits, to this day
A figure made as if from clay
Beside a ruined colour wheel and flag

And in his dream
He sees the hordes
Emerging from out of the well of deep wishes
With hands pressed together
He sees the stealthy ravens are streaming
From their oval mount for a feast
And Saint Madonna is collecting her plucky chickens
from the shore of the great pubescent sea, of men
turning as in sleep
To rise before the wall of fire