the old men sat at dusk to wait for morning
discussing wisdom & where she lived
training all her barren children
to light one candle less than any tiny sun
inconceivable & easily extinguished
like a dream is.
they were good men & no doctors
or murderers among them, several
senseless they were together
night & all the absent dancing,
though wine is a memory
the happy tablet
there is no wisdom left us
& nor is their madness
Reblogged this on reubenwoolley.
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