Remix poem

Let us leave this place

 where the smoke blows black

or imagine and look for the true shape of our own self

To the place where the sidewalk ends

We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow

passed at a speed round a shaped wing

and there the moon-bird rest from his flight

To produce the miraculous

The visible,

past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow

And the invisible,

where the sun burns crimson light

working together in common cause

We have yet to see 

past the dark street winds

So may we, in this life trust

That there is a place where the sidewalk ends