Nov 132013
1. Behind the apartments
The young gulls skreek and squeal
Over the old dump
Ripe with peelings, mangled cans.

They think, If I flew to the moon,
Enlivening its dusts with my wings 
As they flash,
I could not be more satisfied than now.

In this, the young gulls
Preening high over the glittering dump
Are not deceived.

2. In his room
He nailed up a poster of the moon
From an old bijou. 

And round shone that moon
Upon his wall.

His lap glowed slowly obscured
With drift, with stardust.

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