The streets have to parade blinded by rage
The wise man at the trench keeps records
Signs and facts and conspiracists who are
Emboldened by the lights of changing times

Philosophers welcome pacifists that
Flee the infantry squads at the front line
The heat rises from the empty cornfield
Two kids play at the abandoned factory

The Unions look around they breathe darkness
As smells of Indian perfumes keep leaving
The closed vaults and windows of that Congress
Where God’s hand was banned for eternity

Arcadio Falcon. 2017.


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