Once upon a time, she whispered: my four corner seagulls, the apostles of my desire, will bind your limbs to mine forever with strands of sea My love will hold your will, do you not understand? And then, to the sky: Oh father forsaken, forgive your childbride! She has heard the calling, an odd throb from a human engine at the breakeven point Do not believe that I cannot make my love from another Quhark! Quhark! Quhark! Quhaaaaarkh! And in the distance shh! peaceful Now see me, a carnival mark, the other from which every one is made: I submit to you---my love--- I have nothing left but a hollow throne, a comfortable place to sit in my dotage to watch the weeds seek out the ebbing tide and see in the reflecting tidepools history replay myself once again foolish, and young Lie by my side, my one, closed eyes run over with heaving hair and heart--- that stone you may call it, if I do, and run fingers over it to smooth the caltrops Say to me, do not come, and I will run to no avail, listen to you cry no more no more no more will kingdom come and as the walls come crashing down in spite of your autoerotic admonitions and rest and soothe upon your thighs in blood and tears riverrun I hear helplessly (as do all fallen kings) the whine of ecstasy flow into my ear