| the complexity of peace all I want for me |
what we call lack of striving is to eat |
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| beyond that | there is a world, must be | |
| banners and fine streets children carried the smell of rich air with advice of elders move it toward the lake its changes below |
shoulders lifted the delicate portage hands strong put to a stone a dark mirror we cannot see |
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| towers of solitary men polite but sorrowing what we cannot see inconstant motion |
windows facing north beneath the sorrow the traverse of blood what satisfies the hidden |
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| thousands of these it gives you nothing you had hoped for what you expected but more complexity change to change wheels of birds, beggars men do not change but birds sing or are silent artists wonder this beautiful |
and then the sea: not the empty roar not the likeness yourself to be water speaks to water the arousing, rising artists and brides do not become husbands beggars die brides first believe half-truth |
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| under the haycart a stray cat |
I heard a cry finishing its prey |
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| what should I say? our world is this way? we are taught to sing our lowered eyes to spend blood more costly |
look, love this is the song under our breath the complaint of the dead to have blood spent more weighted than gold? |
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Parade by Toms Murnieks @ DeviantArt.com
“Viewers smile and troops are marching on: an army parade (18th November, the day of independence of Latvia)”
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