Over dullness of the banal, dried brown blood
which passes under our echoed pacing footsteps
a dead dog's eyes shine tragic radiance
to eager hearts, blindly stumbling over themselves
in shows of humanity, as we sand dull plaster
to dried, caking river beds of conscience,
and the mouth's sweet bombast of music blares,
blotting out the harsher whispers of memory.
Gus Schreiber
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alone-in-the-darkness-watching-television-of-course/
