This midnight of the year's stopped clock
The cat's-eye moon is almost closed
It nestles up against Mercury and Mars
Like two dice rattling in a lucky cup
Thrown down upon the clear dark
Auguring our future gains and losses
Laying down before us all
We'll have to face or run from
The resurrections and the crosses come
The quiet circling of the vultures
The rainy afternoons of love
Hovering there in the seed of the sun
With you its chosen holy ground
And only the impossible to grow
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