I've hardly listened to Stockhausen

since he left

Was it his own shrouded

enchantment

that made his sonic

constructs

glow and pulsate?

Now they seem just brittle

dusty

spider webs

sticking to my clothes,

sand crackling 'tween my teeth

I turn my face the other way

and head into the wind

away from the dark silhouettes

of goblin castles,

away from this awkward

dance of ghosts