Hart Crane
I have stood beneath your Bridge
and marveled at the music
being whispered in its wires.
I saw America flash pass
on your train riding west,
a kaleidoscopic rush of signs
knitted into a vision too large
to hold in one mind.
You drowned in its immensity.
Through the taut miles
of shuttling, the wind
still murmurs
your timeless prayers.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2023
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