32. SUN WORSHIP/empire

     We worship the Sun.
Even in our architectural criminalities
     is justice, as in the dagger's shining eye.
All light is the light of atoms and stars.
The moon and the knife
share splendor's distance.
The knife is on the Earth's dark side
—stabs but she does not whimper—
and the knife is
     miles, miles from the Sun,
     miles from the Moon.
The Moon is an eerie dream of the Earth head.
The knife is carried by a lunatic messenger,
     who built the pyramids,
     drowsing tortoise herd in the desert.
     In the Sun.
But the Sun also shines
on the archaic sky line of New York.
     The winds there
(the windows are opera glasses)
     sing songs of empire.