The Fool’s end March 20, 2008

The one-eyed man spits noisily on the swollen ground.

Nine humors, nine scarecrows

spring up against the darkness

flowering beneath the Fool’s skin.

They tear him apart, examine the feeder of carrion ages past

old enemy, unsavory sinner.

The Fool is a shade the Fool follows.

The Fool to be born to a womb, helpless.