Waste entire day at raw end of rough pipe

   Surrounded by stone in shadows, scraping

     Fingers on ice, only to stop

     Dead or avenged, leaves no reason to spare

   Silent convergence hollowed from manifold black

 Dust in chill dark

Masked latter day fraud, old in fake wool suit

   Promises diamonds, wet handshake lurking

     Around for the wrong place to stay

               Consistent, restless, lost

     Sleep — cancer dawn crawls warm in bed, then grins

   Face to face, graphite at midnight, breaking

Birthright grip that might force a slip

Down cold torrents, dry streams amok that swear

   Pious concurrence, follow its various tracks

     Marked in hard frost

     Like miners who’ve found their gold’s in the stars

   Ascendant, they praise Man, forward looking

Puppet, dressed in moonshine and rime