In a land of bleakness, waiting
with the raven, stag and wolf
dreams of crosses and of dragons
threaten alway to engulf the mind,
the distaff and the pagan
counterweave
Blood spills into wine
and into puddles
undermining what you would believe
Drinking wine for blood
or blood for wine
philosophies cross a crooked line
The sun god rends the heart
and laps the blood:
for Christ's sake, it becomes
spiritual food
emblazoned now across a holy rood.
But in the darkened alleys,
late at night
disturbing faiths interpolate
the plight of others
Veins swollen and throats bare
they stroke the dragon
Thirsting for
a sip of life's arteriel wine
Intoxicated by
warmth and life and proximity
We fall into another world's
sublimity
We cross the line
to drink of mortal wine
The stag observes
the raven flies above
the ravenous wolf kills whom she loves
The wine upon our lips begins to clot
in trying to become what we are not
