she's in Seventh Heaven or so they say
& the evening news rolls & blends
images of hemorraghing violence in the restless
eastern sights
beyond the seven seas of crimson doubt
in her troubled heartland; an ocean apart
a dog's daydream, or poet's scene
in the husky voice of sailors
& Wenches on their starboard side.
this thing never grows old or cold
in a brand new day you might find a way
to dance sublime in a crystal cage
dispel Jesus, yet embrace a cloister's crown
the same Jewel the builder tosses out, the cornerstone
to her crown in the (Night She is Splendid.)
Grow without
& within the gilded cage built by men
who walk in circles
with their heads down & bowed
before an unseen God & an UnSeen Mind
a voice beyond the voices, but hearing voices is insanity.
wake into a new of hearing saner voices in between thing
& the white spaces in between the black lines of words.
