Sunday, March 13, 2016

7914. LET US

(at the rocks)
Let us count the morning air with 
the coating of all we've missed. 
Things past and lost through  
all these ages : though the robin
makes its passage and we see its 
quickened run, though the small 
red fox counts commerce in the 
open field, 'cross-running at its 
peril the prison'd roadway
Here, here is where the spacecraft
landed; well, the legend says. The
people who made witness are now
all dead and gone  -  they stayed for
years just gaping, lost amid their
reveries of reporters and magazine
people. Once I even saw a fashion-
shoot take place over by the rocks.
Emaciated, charcoal'd girls grouped,
seeking stylish shelter there; I wished 
right then the craft would land again.
I said to myself, 'their capes and flying
wraps should take them somewhere
far away. Like stars, like diamonds,
like decimated broods of cosmic dust.'

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