The Mad Magician

They say he spoke through a flick of the wrist,

and his lips were sewn to his palms.

They say he saw with his fingertips,

and guarded the mist in his arms.

They say his skin was weaved of silk,

his teeth, of finest gold.

They say his wiles transcended all,

made Youth herself look old.

They say he slept with the vassals of hell, 

charmed the devils at his shoulder.

They say he smeared his robes in soap

‘till the wind around him grew colder.

They say he was hanged

(for the crime of being) 

By men of negative space.

And God looked down on the nothing-men’s work

And thought,

O! 

What a senseless waste.