(...) As Humboldt The Drum

Chide The Rulers,
Entomb Your Kings And Your Queens Under The Table,
Let The Gamble For Blood Be Pricked And Run Blue,
For Its Purity Be A Rabid Chase InTo The Fold,
With Its Badges Gilded As Its Bridges Be In Kind,
Over Burning Ravines And Canned Applause,
Tense With A Molted Salivary,
Clapping Against The Body-Electric,
Sinking It Deep InTo The Sour Earth,
Vineyards And Vanity... Insects In Sects,
Hive The Heavy-Breaded In Honey,
While Death-Watches Hold Hands For Hoods,
Ticking Steady Near HeadBoards For The Mother Of Pearls,
An Hour An Ear On Signals From Pluto's Orchard,
To Tell Those Red With The Rust Of Eleusinian Mystery
That Her Fruit Has Fury,
And Amber Be Its Garden's Palace.