The Hosts came down to Saturn in the torrid stream,

Before the monsoons gained control,

When winter on Pluto slashed like a knife,

Weighting the blood with sleet and despair.

Shackled by the selective bending of light,

Timeless birds of prey wafted invisible,

Shadowed and drifting in idle dismay,

Upon their heavy clotted feathers,

Riding the ring-clouds and sand-blasted skies.


"Where are my metaphors?" shouted the Emperor,

Pounding his threats and gem-encrusted claws

On the gold and ivory beaks of his radiant throne.

"Where are the symbols of revelation you promised me?"

He demanded of fluid marbles flowing with heated dance.

His legions searched from Andromeda to Alpha Centauri.

In every language they dredged the river bottoms,

Sucked up all pearlidescence impaled between binary stars,

Ensnared the stranded wingjewels of negative magnetic corridors.

Still the Emperor's Tribunes found nothing!


The Unicorns cackled the Emperor to scorn;

Sustaining anti-gravity elevation, lighthearted and glib,

They peeked out at imperial worlds through windowed mirrors,

Teletracing thrusts against outer-band individuated guts.

"Unicorns knew damn well they had the symbols," said

One old, wise Centurion, risking little at his age.

Among photons binding Pleiades together,

Knowing they could never be discovered,

The Unicorns cavorted with the lions,

Romped in the air with the silver-eyed eagles,

In robust humor and gilded gusto,

Chorusing their windswept love song:

The snow is coming down all music,

Rich disintegrating harmonies,

Threadbare rifts of whiteness,

Soft chords of light,

Tenderly tinkling tinkling transparency,

Softly blowing through reeds and strings,

Tossing tossing tempo agitato,

Swirling swirling allegro ma non troppo.


The snow is coming down all magic,

Rich melodic lines breaking up,

Minor thirds and fourths in accidental fabrics,

Chromatics kaleidoscoped in burning flashes,

The pyramids of Egypt gently falling down,

Weightless crystalline systems,

Ten trillion electrons of Cleopatra

Now vividly dying so breathless again.


Copyright © 2005 by Robert E. Romanelli