Those Who Built Heaven in the Darkness

Those Who Built Heaven in the Darkness

I still hear them,
those harbingers of
necessary change,
if only in the vast empty
quiet space of my own
consciousness.

They are still haunting conventional streets,
stealing dust kisses
off the hoods of Lincoln Town Cars.

They hide in Vietnam trousers
with the books in the attic,
or in the alley of great ideals
right behind the House of Seagrams.

Once, they lingered
beside alabaster pools
of jazzing yardbirds,
back when no one knew if
the sun was rising.

They saw the sightless horrors
and wore moist prophet eyes.
I still have a Joy smoke at times
with Kerouac, Ginsberg and Cassady
somewhere above the concrete
and whimpering voices.
My selfish cells feel cleansed,
like after the rain,
and for them I still hurl words
against the harsh walls of mankind.

Bobbie Kilzer Gogain