We may have been stilled but we’re still thrashing,
taking on aquatic demons under stems’ smoldering influence –
swallowing highballs, turning night over in smoke until it’s pink,
smeared and popping – underneath blazes until night was still again,
until we were shaken again, shaken still, shaken and taken over.
After sluffing Ole’ Scratch’s social mores; taken, but not toppled, until the twitchin’s done. – mh clay