I wag my finger at a Red Light
I'm a gleaming-eyed fish
Today
feel hurled from
the highest turret
of Cortachy castle
like the Earl of Airlie's
young handsome musician
I just want to be packed into
a musical instrument
Invisible drummer boy
I want to be caught writing poems
about death A corpse bird
tapping on the window My guardian angel
with a mighty sword
shrouded over me
light of qodesh relieving
mental contents
I don't want to regret
never touching this light
like Hawthorne regretting never speaking to
or touching the familiar spirit of Dr. Harris
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