[i]SPEAK TO ME—
the ten thousand arrayed in disarray
thrashthresh against the ruined brown,
the sky falling in flakes of cloud
to grind within the lost hope host and
the forgotten bacchanalia

unreal amalgamates throb in strobelight
sing the dundadadundadundadundun
SPEAK TO ME—
you drown in the firethrob of revel,
thousand-handed Haephestine labyrinth
mire of doubted expectations
and there is no line or star or sign
Hermes taking the cigarette break
on far Olympian shores

I raise my hand—
it falters
I raise again—
it sinks
A third time, anon—
the waves close over us
and Baradissar drowns anew[/i]

[The Get Away is a [b]5[/b].]