THE MENDICANT CIRCLE
They're weasels, all, you know. These
actors and these actresses acting as
enchanters from some other domain.
They're nothing : they have sex on the
couch, the beg and they grovel to get
some sickening part. I spit on them.
They call it a party. So do I : like a
hanging party, or a gunslinger revel
in the clean, pristine air - wiping
the stage clean of vermin, clearing
the lens for the sake of that camera's
essential purity, the grace of a
thousand elides, new angles
beneath a klieg of old lights.