Hate

That thing is blue / and up early in the morning / before the morning / nodding as Lucifer's bored star descends / as the moon too sets at this hour / going to an old station just to miss the train / and miss it all day

but

I tell you that station is closed / all these iron years / lockstep behind me/ I go to the station to see the wildflowers win / to see the scrub take over / they are not hate they are not even spite / they are the ocean / what people mow and sit and spit on / what nobody gathers up into bouquets / the real gist of years / the pretty brothers you have forgotten