Not The Way We Know It

it is addressed thusly:
For Sippican Cottage.

it reads:
The cities were once beautiful
But not the way we know it so
So this is what we are told
We who are young, we who are old.

What is life but messiness
Exhaustedly against we press
The folds of the unfolding air
And breathe out an earthly care

The odors of the many things
Fly on microscopic wings
Like a host of fairy-kin
And stir without, what within

A waking dream unset the dust
Desire a motion, will a gust
The dirt is resting everywhere
Crust of must this must we share

The street alive with trouble's wight
Fear is day, desire is night
But chance awakes a new detour
Distrust mask a special more

Among the wind's cacophany
Rises unwrit symphony
Look not at beauty of the eyes
Heed not our daylight's pretty lies

Nor heed moonshine's false delight
Still and stiller is the might
Of the thing which stills the air
Drunk desire in virtue share

For my dreams are paving-stones
Build they roads and build they homes
Build it high and build it low
Build it now or long ago

A northern light in darkened world
A bow untaut, a scroll unfurled
Eat the bread of living air
Feel the common worldly care

And tip your hat to passerby
Smell of urine, smell of lye
I bit my lip to beauty full
But not the way we know it so.

a postscript is here written:
a pass-word:

sippican remembers forgotten beauty

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