brother poem

shadows lay along broadway
gloom
before the solemn bronze saint
uplifting, as the wind blew
she said
when i was broke in london
see, from this counterfeit of him
where shall i find you
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
have you seen walking through the village
friend, whose smile has come to be
stuff of the moon
be not angry with me