Another City

When I draw back
the weathered cloaks of my being
there should seem revealed  ...another city,
                         drifting on water
with bruised and wounded garrisons of spirit-
citizens stationed in vigilence of
the treacheries to their bastions of generation
and in reverie to the holy organic hymns
of eloquent sunlight
                    scattering   
                              widely...

The sounds of a brave heart.beat.
measuring the time
it takes to file
the venerable volumes of cultivated institution
piled in careless vaults,
towers teetering in the midst of their streets
                          and between their lamps-
winding along the 
                   creeks
                  of
              yellow
               energy
                lining the limits
                             of the
                               city
                              and
                        dividing
                       the
                       empty
                      outer
                 pastures
                into
             secret
        passages
       of
exile-
quietly
propagating
a philosophy of shadows and dust
forming walls of corrugation to surround
my palace of copper and triumph.