a poem of no logic or profound scholastics

 
I wish I could make her run in the sunlight.

come down, lonely cloud.
come down, stars who remember
the night they were born, come down.
and the vessel full of wise men
from a distant world, who wonder when
we will eliminate ourselves;
we know you’re there.  come down.
and all the birds conversing
on telephone wires, come down.

come down.


(Art: Alberto Reyes)