Morning bright, rise.

Go over your lines.

Iron your carefully crafted disguise.

We'd all like to sing.

It's easy to sigh; to sprinkle a handful or plausible lies.

Our buildings will rise, poke out our own eyes.

Publicly smile and privately frown.

A weeping reprise.

Please hear my cries; I'd like to pull just this one building down.

So turn off the sky.

Head in my hands.

Night keep me warm.

White window-sill.

Blinded by heart.

Cut my hair short.

"Eyeless in Gaza with the slaves at the mill."




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