Halloween is purple and gray above
brown below
skeletons of poplars bend at the waist
and the white snows stir in the cold blue
wind
and the blue rain
all the invisible blues
the sky that disappears
the sea that goes gray
the moon impaled on an icicle
that remains indifferent
I notice the stars are magnified
in cemeteries
it is the infinite that blankets our bones
with speech
and also muffles every utterance
in a chorus of inarticulate murmurings
the language of stone is about to be spoken
again
by the lipless ventriloquist whose silence
makes the dead dummies dance
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