Star[-lite]

In amongst

the dark of commercial

nite lies quite

truthfully the lite of 

white site: located 

and seen, both I would

figure.

Like ice-skated rink: like

unrighted ship: 

like everyone you loved

and no one

who’s left: and the 

women who left and the

people who left and the

politics which no 

longer comprehends the

cit-

y-

zen of peaceful contemplation 

but simply lites the

nite of

whitely sited spites.

And yet beauty emerges 

from wrongs eternal

and beauty re-

surges from hurts unfurled,

and nothing does 

justify what you have done,

and yet the physical

splendour is – even

so – 

quite

undeniable.

So must it all now

diss

app-

ear as unlistened eavesdropping

is lost to the wind?  What do

you think? 

What do you 

here?

What is right for those 

who 

have left to some

were else, my friends?

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