Houdini's Back To Tell You All

They orbit long with brief visions of each, four pitch-lit eyes strike the shapeless hour. How handsomely becoming is Houdini ‘pon a coward, and who, really, is he, to hide away the breach? Half the world is hidden, nay, e'en half that all I know, as well, and longer still my eyesight blurs as I've learned every trick and mighty glam from eventide’s torch to Nemesis wed... I’ve even learned how to resurrect Houdini and show him what he's missing: Stars reborn slipping through his hands, or how Potiphar's wife can kill a man but not him: stuffed and bound by straitjackets "He had watched Them disappear into caskets of caricature and chrome. Eternity-in-a-box!" "Come, Houdini, I've bestowed to you true power to materialize and summon; absolve the cruelest hours." Yet his eyes unrehearsed held a loftier craving: to escape the second dissolving call: When snowflakes blankly fall and reveal, "That is not it, at all"— When bloodied snow mourning cloaks, engraves Gabriel down through welcoming Tartarus towns; through the Nessie teasing ‘round; through the smiles he saw but never knew, smiles that melt even alchemy's dread: "You cannot change my mind—you should never have penned; You should never have entered my head— nor ever lived." At the cusp of that Everest Mount, Houdini and I face this exploding world for a final, bitter time and together we cast The Spell: The Penultimate Getaway: Nothing. Our Screams Their Silence Magical Clapping: "Good show."