Valley of the Whore
by C.S. Thompson

If I could I would explore
More behind the Iron Door
To the Valley of the Whore
In the Zone of Dust.

*

Where the jumping jackals sing
And the bells of hunger ring
“Let him be your freedom king”
In the land of lust.

*

One by one, the monks approve
Horrified, their fingers move
But no sound escapes the groove
Of their holy spirit.

*

Inspiration fades away,
What we lose, we find today
What we find, we throw away—
I can’t measure it.

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