CHILD MOON
THE child's wonder / At the old moon
COME you, cartoonists,
Hang on a strap with me here
At seven o'clock in the morning
On a Halsted street car.
Take your pencils
And draw these faces.
Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,
That pig-sticker in one corner--his mouth--
That overall factory girl--her loose cheeks.
Find for your pencils
A way to mark your memory
Of tired empty faces.
After their night's sleep,
In the moist dawn
And cool daybreak,
Faces
Tired of wishes,
Empty of dreams.
THE child's wonder / At the old moon
I AM singing to you / Soft as a man with a dead child speaks;
MY head knocks against the stars. / My feet are on the hilltops.
LET a joy keep you. / Reach out your hands