The Haunted Computer and the Android Pope

And lost the fire.

O, Phoenix, rub thy bones,

No more suspire!

Flint souls, strike mind against wild mind.

Return! Be born of spent desire.

Bright burn. Bright burn!

O mighty God’s voice, shorn,

Give shout next Easter morn. Be born!

(Our prayer calls you to life.)

Reborn of fire!

3

Abandon in Place.

So the sign says, so the words go.

The show is spent, the fire-walkers gone,

And gone the glow at dawn.

This day? No rockets rise like thunder.

The wonder still remains

In meadows where mound-dwellers not so long ago

Envied the birds, the untouched stars,

And let their touching envy grow.

Machineries stir here with falls of rust;

The lust for space still echoes

In the birds that circle lost in mourning cries

Repeating shouts of crowds long-spent

Whose aching shook the skies.

The sea moves down the shore

In wave on wave full-whispering,

No more. No more.

When will the harvesters return

To gather further wonders as a fuel

And let them burn?

How soon will all of Earth mob round, come here once more

To stop the night,

Put doubt away for good with rocket light?

O soon, O let that day be soon

When midnight blossoms with grand ships

As bright and high as noon.

Prepare the meadows, birds, and mounds,

Old ghosts of rocketmen, arise.

Fling up your ships, your souls, your flesh, your blood,

Your blinding dreams

To fill, refill, and fill again

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow’s

Promised and re-promised

Skies.

The Great Man Speaks (#ulink_4dd73c04-4be2-505e-b925-19e3ae2773c5)

(famous last words)

The famous one was there

Like a statue put out upon our loving green.

His wife was mean and talked a lot,