Wednesday

Sweet Prophet

When, in the dawning of the wholesome shift,
& when we walk along the country road,
Will you find yourself alone?

Among me and the Magi-

Oh, Moses of the modern midnight,
Moses on the mount-
Fear the destiny of freed man,
Left in the hands of freed men.

We- who walk through the pillared gates,
More mauve than pearly white,
Join hands with he creatures of habit,
Those who have so aptly waited in vain-

Oh, lost Israel in the hills of highway nine.

Do not stand in the shadow of you,
or Her.
or Them, if they are in the mind of he who will not enter,
and he who preaches and does not know.

Tho-

Sweet prophet.
I urge you to go.
And, in the crook of your arm, maintain the marks of our humble entwinement,
and, walk the streets where we once found peace.
Oh, Moses-
wait with the sparrows where we will never go,
in the Heavens we will never know.