W. R. ELTON
home from india
back from India, home at the hotel
this congruence in the scenery of the heart
all avenues vanished, being fully alone
where the weird sun displaces
the personage one dotes on
one savage poem purely placed for another
you caress earth as you caress sunshine
or moonshine and you chant and the concert
sounds and you note the universe in a line
a lifetime gone under, people further than clouds
men unseen in sound and movement and hues
after that strange and fervent virtual India
BRIAN SWANN
The Lost Boy
per me
5;
va
Ira
la perdutta gente
Different, in darkness, the twig was bent back
down into the ground. So it will grow. Paterpornographer
warmed the child in his hand, producing a crop
of continuing silence, prison with small sky. The robber
of the name still shares the name that opens
its night in night, secret tainted nower,
