Torn from gentle dreams and animal desires,
staring open mouthed, the beast admires
overhead, the hanging portrait:
O what horrid fate!
Himself there.
Beware:
Bygone glories
made mere memories.
Man no longer man what art?
Thou but residue, only a part.
So slash the artifice and thrash the frame;
Truly but he yourself owns all the blame.
Face to Face
Tale Told 