from An Apogee
The children have bought the sea
and our iconography does not so much desire
illiberate hands as ichthyology;
to swim and play in the cold swell
to dream alone the infant dream
of owning stars; naught else.
But we are rational, and cannot dream,
so national and superspiritual
the children have bought the stars.
Oh, this juvenility
prairiesong of youth deferred
precious myopia, ickle hands open
ignorant of all the world
inheriting the universe.
“Let them come to me”
nimble, nymphal, nymphean,
“do not hinder them.”
Hinder the nepotic priest,
the skeptic and the simony:
“but let the little ones come to me.”