After yesterday’s strike plus October 2008 rewords poems, What’s Enough by Jonathan Regier and the form of All those Choices by George Vance
the extent that rain is its own Metropolis of strikers
lament against the accepted guard, we stand
the iron drawbridge of the palace, crossed, a crossing, no luck, staring
the sun, of entering
is barricaded—we have no chance of getting through.
Galileo an Armageddon of what was said, to
cover, rain can't ever, a certain voice hearing, over
running is still the break rushing to greet its brethren walking
the blind masses blinded, blinding sunrays, rise.
Hours at our windows
climb upward to the past, back forever going
windows lit from the upward rushing future stars night
we call "The Streetlights of Tomorrow" ancestors
strongly upward grazed to see us here, immobile.
say the old faith is that I believe in, as in I
in a Universe without Void,
the Plenum, in the Vertical lacking Emptiness, to
with touch its creatures I am among the
faith, say, I in the rain mass chest of Metropolis
forward. This blank page is just the sign we
words for April
9 hours ago