The lion's lilac teeth feeds upon the earth; breeding rivers guided by crews nailed to the cross; they go where they want like morning shadows into the wilderness; forgetful of time the sun stirs behind the circus master, who; while in the cotton fields of foreign summers whips the flesh of marble Gods. The lashings of the waves loosen Athena's dress; a figure of beauty that stands on the eyes of performance; seeing all but herself. Dancing on a lovesick throne by the veils of starlight and how pale the hands of liberty feel. Answering the air with a heartfelt prayer; like a dream from flowering drums, beating on the hills; the audience roars with forty winks. Into the Victorian abyss! We hail...