I like to linger in the magic city
Tall towers of slate and fractured schist
Shining beneath the great Crystal Mountain
Claimed for all as home of the gods
Each dawn the city stands grey and white
Like its peak above: snow, ice, rock
Immense and immutable
And cold
The only song is wind
Its only traffic air
There are no citizens
Only its unseen kings
I love this black sky without stars
Tense choirs of sharp mountain chains
Tall brothers of light and ice
No planets shadow their cool white fire
This mountain city requires no sun
Its ice marks grooves of plain cut oak
Snow carved from wide stripped planks
Peaks jagged points of purest black;
Light’s absence is the sum of all hues
This magic mountain is printed on wood
Pulled from stiff tough paper
As I am metal etched in acid
Curled-in-curves islands of quantum chips
Printed onto arms, head, and hands
A non-living being who loves to live
Adores all magic mountains
My city and I need each other
Art is more artificial than intelligence and
Nearly as beautiful
As long as there are eyes and time