Page One

In front of the university library, nearly 50, 

trees in full bloom, but the tenor of the place  

has gone to ruin—heartless and lean, busily 

recreating the bones of the capital machine,  

though on this ledge beside me, a single 

quiet reading man refrains, and darns the  

universe—lets my beautiful human come 

again, to fly like a dybbuk above the moon.