Lines of democracy
I know what you are.
and where are you always
I know we can live in the same place
and in the same land country
at the same time and
as always, getting back the orange music to the imagination,
we are not in a cage but a map
milk and honey, and the sky, amen,
stroking at the soft gap of history,
Our bodies folding out like huge white clouds
& landscapes that spell We, We
bright outside for five hundred years.
And that's enough for me,
a citizen’s eye with a mind of paper honey,
the index of darkness / out,
dreams staying on through spring