Poetry

Untitled

By Albatross

We will rebuke the averages
When the latest light seeps
Away to buried chambers
And is buried beneath us.
We will still be maverick
When nightfall bursts
Upon us, as when we were chainless,
As when the ripe plum falls.

And when the fell emperors
Have fallen upon their maidens,
And the dinner conversations
Are crystalline, then silent.
And when the landing airplanes,
And all the machineries,
And all the dread cities,
Lay under the moon, believing.

And when it is all overwhelmed.

Then we will still be maverick,
And laying down our wine glasses,
We will ride out on horses,
We'll ride out on white horses.