Still for grains of dusk to rest.
Still for sleepless revolutions
And for hedging bets
In just another misled
But I’ll keep dreaming.
And still the pollen sky to blind
A cliched revolution paints
In ruby-gold the closing
Wherein days make pains to bleed,
So still as to be mutiny
For interest paid to silence
When the apogee declines
Tonight in effigies of green.
Still to be as still to do,
And loose to weave these curls of dust
Beneath a troubled crimson
Purl for blankets sewn to slate,
Still to bear an amethyst tomorrow
But for dusk to break,
Another revolution made for leaving.