The Poet Saw A Nightmare At The Death of a Poet

it is addressed thusly:
A vision.
it reads:
Thus I saw their faces, no faces at all
With but an eye, a cyclops we may call
Looking this way and glancing that
Behind the mask of inclusion and love
One without distinction, below made above
Providence an eyepiece and faith a merry hat
A rainbow-color scarf, empty cross about the neck
A tiny violin and every trumpet at their beck
Sound- make a sound! A sound like a wreck
Victory they call - for freedom it is said
With a plastic face and eyes made of glass
Goggling, googling at every thing that may pass
An angel they have made out of one that is dead
So if you look askance the eye may look at you
But unblinking, unthinking,
-- it is only staring through.

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