You can’t see stars
In New York
As its lights obscure
Heaven’s limit
From below that sky
Hiding midnight
Far beyond my town
Never dark

And too damn bright
With belief
Not for God Himself
But ambition
Which fails such truth
Seeking answers
So explicitly said
Looking up

When our evening bears
Better gifts
Than another attempt
At existing
By scouring streets
Always glowing
Until blindness kills
Every hope

Wishing dreams
Just didn’t need cash
Where we work through pain
Meaning gambles
By money again
Taking precedence
Over a moment’s breath
Being free

Sharing art
Like prophets untold
Crushing souls
Whose poems ascended
Right besides dim moons
Growing richer
While dying down here
Seeming poor

Until madness
Offers escape
Swept away now quick
Driving further
Towards their one last chance
Finding faithfulness
Off those highways
Saints only know.

• J. Pigno