The Whale by Gregory Corso

A whale— young and pale, that was born in the ocean and sings like a flute, who, on the night of his leaving, kissed the surface of the sea,

now swims through the city, leaving waves of shadows, From building to building like sweet song, flapping its heart in the wind, wondering where the moon keeps its feathered crowns.

The great whale knows only the vastness of water, that fills his chest,

• that speaks the languages far below the noise, his being a palace of treasures.

In the light of the stars that glimmer for him, the whale knows only kindness, and the night’s embrace, as he glides under bridges unraveling this brilliant silence.

• Gregory Corso