how many colors could
possible be
out there in this world
of wind—
of it fire and its
feathers,
its seeds
and its flowers—what animation,
what valor
left to be dreamed?
and is it really
the dullards
or their governors
who say
have it your way—
the world is ugly
and the people
still confusing
what's true
with what is beautiful,
still arguing back and
forth until black-
and blue in the
face—which
anyway, are just two more
shades of gray.