Page 27
By Jack Joseph Smith
For we are the last of loss
The close up, we wore the clothes
who waited, waiting at the top
of the hill, right where 6 years
go to tumbling set in our seconds
of sorrow, and though again
sink into a myth, even more than
lovers we were joined the working
for divinity, together being the
cross at that intersect, our lives
fighting to bid favor, bequesting
by stars and books, and all good
things, never permitting the world to
End, for me and those as of us carry
love and sight in the mouth of wildness,
while we defend our dew.