Moonshine from Monaco We were stardust, children Moving Earth to Eden. Disabused of stale mildew, Smoking words where no guns grew, Stroking music from disdain, hope from early dew. We were golden in the silver; Clutching a new voice in the darking river; Nudging a dial to borrowed sleeves Overswept with crested leaves; Listening, glistening in ears that longed in sheaves. Here the Garden’s sweetest flower In tombs of rooms that once were sour, At festivals we camped at Patching, Respect for artistry newly hatching. Nights the sun could smile, a sleepy kitten scratching When the sheep lay soft in slumber Seekers found a newer number, Freedom in a void dies slow Without warm breaths of love that glow, As pure new snow awaiting tracks to Radio Geronimo.