Modern Times

When the rain falls down
I would like to think:
It's tears and memory.

I would like to declare:
My children will play
in the streets, without fear.

I would like to dream:
A world where we walk
"under the red sky,"
not looking up at planes;
- trepidation in our hearts -
having eyes for the beauty of the clouds -

I would like to write
poems that don't stink of history,
vomit politics,
but have in them words that curl like smoke, into images
like a woman's soft, curving back
as she arches it up to...

I would like to forget most things.

I would like to remember the spruced up look of winter's and spring's coats
in the forest of my hopes,
the beauty of nature and the dale of the future
reverberating with the music of soft leaves
floating up in a spiral, defeating
all things of "gravity," making them stand
triumphantly, on their maidenheads!