A Space Too Large

sitting with the turnstiles, I’m a stranger but they’re my people
 words they float above it all, in a city of cathedrals

like the spirit of the radio
they pound it deep, then let it go

I, the wolf of virtue, say unto magdalene
give me all your meager beauty and I will let you in

to feast by the radio
turn it up, then let it go

for all these white, open years
the only signal that bums around here
spirits of the radio, cross by brain where the faithless go
send me on a righteous wind home

the stories that connect us ring hollow but in 3D
a small patch south of Vicksburg is where I’d like to be

But you seek to connect us though your time has come and gone
string me a long, with your tired love song, on and on and on and on

to the hymn of the radio
wind me up, then let me go
spirit of the radio
turn it up, then let it go