Darrow

it rained off and on for some of the night
and once
the ghost of Clarence Darrow
hung himself outside

our doorway with thin wire cable. said the legality of
things had gotten way out of hand
even for his

oratory

and it rained off and on
for most of the night while trundling along
the cat step of crawling words
about
the twenties
or a Spaniard in Florida
hit the skidded road with a heavy sound.

oh yes
we found the thin
wire. we found the
dead man
twice and we
stood outside leather books the bound volumes
wiping
dirty print on our childish hands
and then the dead man sat again. drank a glass of wine. threw the glass out the window
as if it
were paper. wiped his dead mouth and smiled at the
doorway because, ah yes,

he
brought the sporadic
water off his
bookish face and we were not singularly alarmed. it was night. it was late
at night or
close to late in the morning
and

we threw precedent
in snowy tufts quivering grasses
or

the rain that came (off and on) thru' the night