The chorus had horns and wings and talons
given from god and hell and heaven
audiences of control freaks whose faces reach light speed
The darkness of space the blankness and obviousness of legends
The voices singing the chorus were dry wood
Smouldering vowels and crackling consonants
Fire tied to the foot of the chorus
creeping up it like Italy
the fire curled cunningly seeking out invisible eyes
To have them observe it bronzing and scorching the musical notes
Fire now a knot attached to the titan
bland ash starting to form and fall from the white hot ankle
The chorus whipping and banging off the pine bark
rebounding off those stubborn date palm columns
up toward the base of the acropolis
taking fire like hungry god tongues
Flirting with Iberia Like a phoenician rogue
On the heel like Gibralter under moors and inquisitors
drunk on the ore flavored rocky grape not so different from
chalky athens
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