The knowledge of evil spreads, it
Sticks to the heart, it cripples
The feet, it turns the bile
A sickly green, with weak, exhausted ripples.
If you could take a helicopter
And hover over the sulfur springs,
You could learn about the serpentine
Twists of the valley, its unexpected reckonings,
But how many helicopters have crashed,
Have burned, have left their propellers
Twisted and distorted, and broken survivors
Who wander, spectral storytellers.
Yaacov David Shulman