I would rather hear anthems by common birds from bookies
than peacocks yelling their beauty like poets who write in Harrington.
I would rather be carried to God in clouds of the zoo-wolves howling
Then a mad man shaking incense begging on marble to common folk.
I would rather wait a million years to see a refugee claim the moon,
I picture a woman with a flag made from clothes dripping oceans and sweat.
I picture a child being cleaned by wolves and they howl at spaceships drowning
I picture a God declaring himself human but from London or Washington first.
I would rather hear laughter from a child that never knew it
Than a common bird singing to a world obsessed by peacocks