The scientists are in terror
           and the European mind stops
Wynham Lewis chose blindness
           rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
           the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
           how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
           but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
               where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
         neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
           doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
                  where the dead walked
                             and the living were made of cardboard.

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