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FIREFLIES

Wealthy waters or a dried pear; a nervous looking phoenix
commended in a stumbled song, spun across the fields in fact,
maddened by immortality and the mosquito song of summer.

The business man came home and stacked new names
on top of old nests. "A pile of gold", he said, and poured
a virgin hymn from the blood of his veins. It rained for a thousand
years. "For ever and ever. A girl or a boy?" A thought that crossed
many a mind - sublime and man made. A boy with golden ears
and velvet skin was born, a labyrinthine memory like Egypt.

A miracle allowing the fields to flood now ends in tears of excellence:
a swelling of the waves broke the sheet of blue, held hands with despair
and the mirror of detail revealed the refracted brother of reality.

I kiss your Arab soul. I hire your regret.
I make a tea for Time, a plea for Pleasure
a sea for Capital Alumni. I hear your beating heart,
your medieval solace, a break-even with kismet.

(And little does one care about the future of the dead and what outweighs
the days upon the cross.)
(August 2014)