Issue 28, Summer-Fall 1962
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis accepted 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