by Brenda Hillman
They gave up their fear of sincerity
They gave up their decorated nights
Evening birdsong had folded into chalk
Evening shadows grew less white
We'd been faithful mostly
to our own special tribe
Couldn't keep the burned forests alive
Of the beasts of the apocalypse one was light green
It was a dream We didn't choose that
We chose the rat the cat the fox the past
&when we sang to ourselves the song went
What is the voice of the age my friends
What is the age of the voice
Adenine Cytosine Guanine Uracil
The voice of the age is a fragment
O sea of glass Cart of straws O air
round as the love of moths
Hard to forgive certain centuries my friends
The age of the voice is the choices
The voice of the page is the voices
O love song in an old blue cart
Wheel of ciphers wheel of eyes
Wheel of beauty code & blues
The voice of the age is the voices
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Last updated February 19, 2023