Tancred and his sidekicks used to cast a multitude of spells. Their saddlebags were filled to the brim with greed-powder for the jealous and cannon-powder for the violent. Smoke-and-mirrors-powde ... [+]
In the morning night
When streetlight shadows
Scramble rat-ways
Under parked cars
And rain, down pipes,
Taps the pavement
Like an impatient date,
Then radio music,
Drifting memory-thin
Over rural roads,
Sputters at its edges
And freight trucks
Swish the overpass,
Their beams streaking
Above my windshield:
A caravan of comets.