Newborn Awakening

Indians scattered on dawn's highway, bleeding
 Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile egg-shell mind
 Blood in the streets
 In the town of New Haven
 Blood stains the roofs
 And the palm trees of Venice
 Blood in my love
 In the terrible summer
 Bloody red sun of fantastic L.A.
 Blood screams her brain, chop off her fingers
 Blood will be born in the birth of a nation
 Blood is the rose of mysterious union
 Blood on the rise, it's following me
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 Indian, Indian
 What did you die for?
 Indian says nothing at all
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 Gently they stir
 Gently rise
 The dead are newborn awakening
 With ravaged limbs
 And wet souls
 Gently they sigh
 In rapt funeral amazement
 Who called these dead to dance?
 Was it the young woman learning to play the "Ghost Song" in her baby grand?
 Was it the wilderness children?
 Was it the Ghost-God himself, stuttering, cheering, chatting blindly?
 I called you up to anoint the earth
 I called you to announce sadness falling like burned skin
 I called you to wish you well
 To glory in self like a new monster
 And now I call on you to pray