Monday, March 12, 2012

A dedication to

Somewhere in timeless America,
where the peaks of the Rockies blaze
white into the bleak rumble of solar-system
time, where amber Indiana fields
shine golden down a tumbling age called
heaven, the children in dark world
are tracing the night that is wordless
like they have have have since
there was nothing on the coast but beach
and oysters and flags and they call out
to lost angels whose mouths hang agape
and wonder how? and I wonder too...


and someone answers back
out the void
in a rhythmic voice that's so familiar
because it should be ours,

"WHERE are we going?"

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