The Howler

Here is the angel of the world's desire

Placed on trial

To hide in shrouded alley silhouettesWith cigarette coiled

To stike at passing voices

Dark and suspect

Here is the howling ireHere is the sacred face of rendezvous

In subway sour

Whose grand delusions prey like intellectIn lunatic minds

Intent and focused on

The long thin matches

To light the howling fireNo, no, not me,

Burn, I don't wanna burn