Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

#260

Starlight that I see tonight, I wish

I may and wish I might say magic words
To open doors and unburden lords
Of the yoke of history, hand this
To all the little ones with little
Need of war, who see instead with mercy
Or desire for mercy, or burning heresy
Upon an altar of mercy, the fiddle
And the cat that plays fiddles, and a cow
That jumps over moons and dogs laughter
Each piece of a story of starlight and how
The work of night is for miracle workers
The little ones dream unburdened by our history
Invent anew what wishes go to stars, what melody

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