Let us slice this stagnant air.
For if nature can yet carve her canyons
then let her thunders lead us where
Aurora lives in liquid skies
and silence sings in silken sighs.
* I wrote Lyric for the Scribblers in 1973. It was set to music by Mary Grace Bookhardt at the Pit, a coffee house in the basement of the church of St. Paul and St. Andrew on West End Avenue and West 86th Street in Manhattan.
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