Saturday, April 4, 2009


Transparent nighthawks mournfully blink open
First and innermost
As the sun wearily shuts
It's shaggy Cyclopean--
When the Giants' Bread
Is to lost Heaven's rafters,
Whose fiery light glances from
The glistening entrails of ended song,
The first bright anvils of youth;
Crumbs gather into clouds
Centuries in diameter
Massive clouds which fitfully solidify
Into a stillness of lead,
Wingbeats begetting silence.

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