WINTERLAND

Ça nous est dû. Le sang! le sang! la flamme d'or!
		Rimbaud
ancor giovane dÕanni e bella ancora 
		Leopardi & Sereni

After death shall all turn simple: 
Vases find their yellow tulips, 
Lawyers prove their law, books 
Choose their readers, finally warm 
Wax freezes stiff. There calls for no 
Further alarms a closed door, mirrors  
Cease looking for more figures, no 
Alarums wax in the peace of identity  

Extinction mutes regrets, vivid years 
Are spared encumbrances. 
			  	     Do i wish
I could live on, blue eye, mind in a vat, 
Crying in vain for a body, so modestly,   
This bloody minimum owed to all of us:  
Still young in years & fertile still. 


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