A small man will come shortly

the tailor came traveling
to the end of the weathered night
this two-cast melody sombre
like dance in the gust of a broken jube
we hold no pearls to the flight of liberty

this dance curls in stockade defeat
now more exhausted than racing thoughts
if only authoritarianism could so easily fly
with the storms of night visions and song
we do not know who comes next, stronger