Dhampyr -

Your plastic God will rake the dirt of cotton men Species of clouds will gargle idiot rain There will fall monsters too old to stand A court of lepers shall eat Blond physical potions So as to transport the Soul Of gravel, pollen and sand And hungrily, the people of Isaiah Shall go to-ward the waters Lethe And ride the bottomless parapets of snow And sparrows will jargon tunelessly For a nest North; but barb'd wings Cannot for life spread forth All the ghosts in previous harvest Do not prise the lakeshore, nor the basic host And the Pleiedes will have wrung out from the vapor Unlatching that sad harness And the world will shake mightily in black process