The Song of the Demented Priest

I put those things there.—See them burn. The emerald the azure and the gold Hiss and crack, the blues & greens of the world As if I were tired. Someone interferes Everywhere with me. The clouds, the clouds are torn In ways I do not understand or love. Licking my long lips, I looked upon God And he flamed and he was friendlier Than you were, and he was small. Showing me Serpents and thin flowers; these were cold. Dominion waved & glittered like the flare From ice under a small sun. I wonder. Afterward the violent and formal dancers Came out, shaking their pithless heads. I would instruct them but I cannot now,— Because of the elements. They rise and move, I nod a dance and they dance in the rain In my red coat. I am the king of the dead.