In a cosmopolitan world where
Yeezy reigns supreme on our
Speakers, loathed for loving
Genius-acknowledging, we

Have set a standard of beauty
So surreptitious, soulless—
Unattainable in this number-
Crunching world so pre-

Occupied with symmetry and
Egotism—structure—black and
White dominated by rawness and
Robotics: steampunk screams echo-
Ing from the rooftops of skyscrapers

As lightning continues to strike the highest point.

Only when the rain is as
Sharp as a torrent of Central Park ice
(Y'know, where the ducks are!)
Would I blink,

Not willing for anything
In the world
To miss the joyous songs of a
Still sunny carousel—
Chorus of 10 year old laughter, falling

Much like light spring rains
(Though none befalls me here)
Trickling down my face

Like a second baptism.

"Peace"
is synonymous with
Beatles music and
an empty desk—
i stare longingly
for no reason
but
that of some
Artificial sentimentality;

Quiet purity.

To watch piano keys tune
Is like righting a broken bone:
Process somewhat crude
But still very much a need.

The maestro looms like a wolf,
Making every note weep
Though to the intensity he is aloof,
As if in a dream—

Or perhaps a nightmare;
He hears the shrieks and jumps,
Perhaps exaggerated by the glares
Of looming ghouls—necromancy.

The notes holding as if a pathos
Back to the world of the living.

I watched the Sphinx
Die quietly of thirst;

Front paws buckling,
Eyes bloodshot—

Her smile, once human
But a twisted grimace.

She shrieked, as her talons
Gouged out her heart; gasped:
"Child,

"My Wisdom is yours."

And she gave it to me
And it was mine to hold.

I still think
Heaven is a small
Town with bright
Blue eyes and the
Sound of a child's
Laugher—

That it unknots
The brows of even
The most weary of
Philosophers.

I still think
Heaven is a small
Garden encrusted with
White feathers and
The west-wound winds
Coming from the Atlantic.

An old harbor—Vladivostok—
Spelled perfectly,
Abandoned by
Knaves and all the carnage they left,
Or Ceasaria:

Dry bed of luminous ruins.

I imagine You beckoning us:
"Don't be afraid, come!"—
Revealing pockets of
Nature only you would have
The courage to call

Beautiful.