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
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.