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THE DRAGONS ARE SINGING TONIGHT ~Jack Prelutsky 


Tonight is the night all dragons
Awake in their lairs underground,
To sing in cacophonous chorus
And fill the whole world with their sound.

They sing of the days of their glory,
They sing of their exploits of old,
Of maidens and knights, and of fiery fights,
And guarding vast caches of gold.

Some of their voices are treble,
And some of their voices are deep,
And all of their voices are thunderous,
And no one can get any sleep.

I lie in my bed and I listen,
Enchanted and filled with delight,
To songs I can hear only one night a year —
The dragons are singing tonight.

THE FUTURE 


"If I want to walk out in the desert and heat up a can of beans on a fire, I still can. In those movies like Gattaca or whatever, the space age stuff is always all there is. But in the world there is never just one way of living. It's more like a big junkyard. Put it this way: I'm not afraid I'm going to end up on a space station in aluminium-foil underwear."
—Tom Waits

"And now the wheels of heaven stop
You feel the devil's riding crop
Get ready for the future:
It is murder."
—Leonard Cohen

"The future is like heaven. Everyone exalts it,
but no one wants to go there now."
—James Baldwin

NOIR 

I could write a hundred poems
about the look of your sleeping face

here where the wood stove waits

for fast-approaching winter

I’m on the floor in front of your couch

surrounded by books of poetry

kept company by the constant hum

of our modern age and the ageless

sound of your breathing

not even Sam Spade could unravel

the intricate mystery of how

we came to be here tonight
but as soon as you walked into the cafe
I knew you were trouble


Jason Crane

THE VOICE OF THE RAIN ~Walt Whitman | Leaves of Grass 



AND who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower, 

Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:
I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea, 

Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form'd, altogether changed,
  and yet the same, 

I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe, 

And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn; 

And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,
  and make pure and beautify it
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wandering, 

Reck'd or unreck'd, duly with love returns.)
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