SWAN SONG ARRANGED FOR TWO PIANOS
what ancient secrets
grimace
beyond these hills
these barren mountains
and the wasted valleys
swimming in corrosive shadows
what sound of welling water
or distant mutter
of the slow
inevitable
worms
—The taste
of dust
is on thy lips
beloved
oh let
the subtle contours
of thy words
impress upon my mind
some faint design
(soon
a sudden blare
of tulips
will shatter the brittle theme
of spring
and summer
struggle from the womb
of rigid hills)
