The Deceiver

Listen, listen carefully
Hidden in the bark-womb of the bellied tree
Is the story unborn and this is my not telling
My unsaying of those not yet and those to be
The skeleton of words disintegrating, distorting
The message, as I speak ambiguously

Listen, listen carefully
Listen to its bones break as I rip it apart
See the skin of the tale flayed and draped
Curtains to my stage, splayed prose
Wrapped around an audience
Forested by spiked-rib trees and tree-spiked ribs

Listen, listen carefully
Listen to the ending I give, its silent finality
I am the Crowned Deceiver
Unwriting my book with truthful lies
As I sit on my cold stone throne, the Horned One
Master of Ceremonies on this underworld night