angel poem

do the boys and girls still go
this is the arsenal
world that changes under my hand
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
i gazed upon the glorious sky
to some the fat gods
friend, whose smile has come to be
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
to be able to see every side of every question
and breaketh bread no more
come down at dawn from windless hills
our pleasant moments fly
it was a tall young oysterman
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night