I See the Mountains of Rah

A poem from The Sailboat Past

I see the mountains of Rah

their golden summits and crooked spires,

their turncoat madness.

They scream for liberty and explode atomic waste.

Behind their static claws, clouds combine,

red and white, impure and divine,

they sail the lonesome sky.

These mountains stand guard.

They are the final defense

against those who would devour justice.

I see their beauty; their illuminated bodies

dance along the valiant edge

and shed a hangman’s smile for oblivion.

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