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a place called paradise
Folder:
Astronomical Poetry
once they were modern, now they are dated.
and yet this creation of infinity,
a rimmed moonlit crescent bends,
the furious inflections in age-old sentences,
the staff of fright whose sessions slit
image beckons good or bad,
these long and ancient feuds
so long ago that hatred becomes second nature
feeling only indifference like the malice of hangman’s hands.
they are not Angels on high
only the drones spy
while all humans cry
in dark confessions
and gaze upward to a place called paradise.
