The City in the Night

A river runs, a river runs
where the people do not rest;

I sit and watch, my post
in a ship old as extinction,
the stream of hiding souls.

By night, they rise
higher than the trees,
skim the dreams, the wet crumbs
the grit of the watery stew-
silly souls are fed
who know to fly away.

So many, they are-
they cover the moon,
leave the city of dreams
a sleeping Atlantis,
drowned in what it knows.