IX


Even with my head slung
from its leash of hair I
did not follow the path
back to the green chapel.

It proved all too difficult
to negate the claim that
I had just risen from
the bed of a demoniac.

No doubt I might borrow
the outfit of a goblin priest
and summon foul luck
for the sake of a poem.

I had little prospect but
to review my old ambition
of being a comrade to
the aimless or vagabond.