Heaven Poem by Eli Spivakovsky

* Heaven
heavenly-ascend
seraphs
crawl here
angels
tip-toe
quietly around the
trilling *
and the
arc-angels
stupende you
and
force a great arc against you
and the
pulse bubbles
and the
wave's sigh
and the
air is still then volumptuous
and the
child cries
and the
language is beautiful
the language is
october *
and the
colours are azure and ale
and the
foal is kindled
and the
donkey is loved
and the
dove is free
and the
open sun-rise glazes
and
the pink and the rose uplift it
and the
sun gazes upon it
and the
sun falls in dazzled-rays *
and the *
alphabet is dancing *
and the
firmament calls the angels
the angels
are so quiet
like little children
before an anthem
an anthem
lifts the city
lightning cords
bind the city
and song
vibrates its walls
and the arc-angels
open their mouths
and the
soaring words explode
and
litter asterisks all over the city
and they
fall slowly
and the
angels are ready
and the
men are fit for war *