The scientists are in terror



and the European mind stops



Wyndham 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.





