Here we have it
and it makes a pedestal
and a fence with garlands
in former times we were rich
in love
yesterday the mind
and now we gather guns in
the rubble.
The brooding moon sends
dashing bats
and mysterious bottles
a path is clear
and a heart alive
if the nightmare ends
will I have to wake up?
my searching and spying
are one thing
the tune I play for the angels dance,
another.