Had all things become br Covered in this sticky red mud br Dark gruel clinging to every axle br Hanging from bowclips and cartboards and saddlestraps br Pig world from sun up to sun down br Wheels entrenched so deep that turning br Meant turning the entire world about the sun br Rather than catching one iota of sensible motion br As each insatiable hatred reduced to flat exasperation br Becomes this mad icing on life, this maniacal quagmire br How would a race proceed br Or king negotiate these great objectionable quandries br Through this vile taunt of repugnant meringue br Yieldless, endless mixture of pandemonium br Feeding on morning humidity, clarified through daily evaporation br Siphoning off final ounces of precious energy br What reasonlessness, to stand knee deep in this torment br Anticipating, wishing for escape without waiting br To dredge the channel open, invoke the bench and branch br Ignite lower heaven over a few slackened robes br Asking to receive the rainshower promised, whether true or false, br But let it fall here, now, to replace this stone br While squeeling, bleating, braying cacophonies br Pile up under weepy half-hearted clouds br The bitterness of pungent bread suffocated in clods of base loam earth br Longing for light, jagged broken light br And the sound, that sharp clack br Of truth, such truth, br Against stained woodbr br Tailor Bellbr br