FLYING HEAD
by Victor Neborak, 1990

It lifts up, like a head,
a head chopped off a derelict.
It speaks, and then again
and again, its other-worldly words:
I AM THE FLYING HEAD!
Its all-seeing flying baroque-eye
streaks across the sky above the crowded square.
Blood thickens in the sky, the cut is ragged,
its shadow's heavy and deep:
I AM THE FLYING HEAD!
An invisible ax is in the city,
they dragged the headless bodies off the scaffold,
so gaping fools can drink blood cheap.
Scrape that rusty smear off the forehead
A PHANTOM -- A FLYING HEAD!
You devour television melodramas?
You're watching monsters under glass!
The wrecking ball from Fellini's Orchestra
will break through your wall head first --
I AM THE FLYING HEAD!
Remember, there's nowhere to hide!
The crowd scrambles to hide in the square!
The dark pavement is ritually washed,
and in the Renaissance heavens the beast slouches
A MASK -- A FLYING HEAD
I AM THE FLYING HEAD
I AM THE HE AD FLY
ING HEAD AM I
ING HEAD FLY I
FLY I LY I

neb1.doc 8/7/96