Whenever the dog is already
barking mad in my pajamas
between the sky and black
s'ammazza margin in stairwells floral glory. What beautiful verses
the dead were killed in crowded
picked clean by worms while you registered on the plains of Poland
dozes in the veil and only palpable.
Roman, Christian, Italian
pursues me for two thousand years
resurrezzione
looking for the winter in my kippah;
already hear the old
laugh at you because you have not already read and begin to sing
the vengeance of the gods that
measured in Acre.
I own me, and
me I have to suffice.
