we burn our world—
first published in Every Day Poets
paean to the eons of the sky, stars reflect
in the million jewels of every modern city
we rage, moths fanning the flames
of our own inevitable demise:
so pretty.
{delusions of after grant grandeur
to less meaning than an angel could dance upon, but
without some damper on perspective, all we have
is now, and future-now, and gone}
raise a torch to beauty—her fat will render
enough light
to pen
some little ditty.
First published in Every Day Poets, 2011-11-29. Reprinted here by the author.