quarter time hymn

and in the new lit dawn
you shall enter
the glorious
spreading out
anesthetized cities
sleepy with dull electric light
left on like an afterthought
of the tomorrow and the
today that we are
already forgetting
as you have
written your poems
and stories to
tell again and
anew against
empty coffee
cups and large
salons where you are
comfortable strangers
on the collective
loose

to tell of
things which
we all can
see if you
look at us
in the stark light of
morning past the
dawn that tells of
you and always
has
for you are poets
story tellers
and fools who
have night for
dinner and
dawn for
lunch with
humble biscuit for
that is
your part in
dirty city
trash collection
doubtful
hopeful
dawn

where you
stumble to
crash in the
trash dumps
where we wont come
because it
isnt done like
a mountain busicuit
or pot of rice
still hard
still you are
dark and
frightening in
our view
because you
have thought
something frightening
about us
and you
and tomorrow
which is far scarier
for it is our
kids for which
we tolerate
today

with patience
behoved of God
for you know
no such
form with
our fast
flying bullets
against slow
porch swings
self hate
slow kid things
that pace our lives but
tell us nothing
which is all they know
for tomorrow is a
duck
too late
im shot
song

it is here and
its gone
and you
were there
hot tears
like candle drips
singing this
first light
late night
song
and we
were in
your arms