there   is   a     place
      where little lights
                  shine on
      as flittering beacons
     that call all
       songs of      joy
to steal bread
from the mouth
        of sorrow

it is         here
        where children
dance and pass notes
          in green fertile
            inbetween worlds
      where they are
       no longer prey
for the cannibal hawks
who vomit         innocence
     to feed the mouths
   of their next meal

           instead
             it is       here
            they become silver spiderweb         whispers
                 beautiful
          and incandescant songs
                         of true ness
             feeding from the pools
              of the myth
            of              g*d
who
              with one blind eye
     may  be         dismayed
                   at their
                    sudden
     appearance
           like an         explosion
         of electric hummingbirds
    
               their innocence
                    remaining
untested