The stars grow their wings

On the banks is a fallen man
Who is tired of golden heels.

Water below is much flowed
And flows while stars eat sky.

God please fold sky so small
To let it hold him in swaddle

While  stars pour small light.
Let a darkness keep cold out.

After they have eaten the sky.
Many stars grow their wings

They embrace lighted panes
At dawn we open a window

To the raking of their wings
After they embrace deaths.

(after reading T. E. Hulme ‘s poem The Embankment)

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