squinting stars

The firmament quivered in recall
of one Christmas Eve, midnight
when I was a boy in the wind
alone in an empty countryside
glaring up at an Arabian sky,
magic in my eyes,
and a strain of crazy
in my 700 year old head.

I saw the blizzard wake of stars
blazing a golden trail while
One of 900 stars shot a beam
into my hobo heart saying
don't crawl aboard that trawler
where everymen labour
and ride the devil waves.
Sweeten up your own heaven.

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