Unpublished Fragments From 'The City of Bones'

the City accuses the sky
of terrible things.

the fingers of five buildings

spire after
spire after
spire after
spire after
spire, point
at the sky,

the sky silent as a blue-faced baby,
the stillborn sky
and all the gods without names
stare down

at the spires, the skeletal fingers
now closing, joint
after joint
after joint
a fist closing, hardening
the fetal sky heaves
its last breath.

...

the Ladies are singing.
Listen.

‘Bring us the pathetic
the teeming diseased masses.
Bring us the filthy
The depraved, the worthless, the broken.
Only the best, only the best.

Forget the rest.

The wretched never refuse an invitation!
We welcome them, with rank
And trembling arms.’

Imagine three voices.
Imagine a cauldron.
(There’s always a cauldron.)
Imagine the King.

...

O Dogs!
This is my resignation
My repudiation
My life is yours
My City is yours
My body is meat, my body is yours
(bite a smile into my thigh)
My howl is yours, my throat is yours
(the throat of my wrist was always yours)
O Dogs!
This is my song, our song
This is the song of hallways and basements
Rooms in houses rich with whispers
This is the song of stories
This is

…

author and date of composition unknown