ride your nerves raw in the saddle? Small horseman.
Attila Meathook. Vandal-sire. Not precious stones
so much, for you, as plucked eyes, rain and flag stars.
And still, Attila, you left the Coliseum
wrestling its ghosts, Rome its new Jehovah.
Other cities in the smoke of entrails, blurred.
ALDA MERINI
Holy
Land
I've known Jericho,
I've even had my Palestine,
the walls of Bedlam
were the walls of Jericho
and a fetid puddle of water
ba ptized us a II.
Inside there we were Jews
and the Pharisees were on high
and the Messiah was also there
lost in the crowd:
a madman who shrieked at Heaven
all his love for God.
AII of us, ascetic flock,
were like birds
and now and then a dark
net imprisoned us
but we went toward the harvest
of our Lord and Christ the Savior.
We were washed and buried
smelling of incense.
Afterwards, when we were in love
they ga ve us electroshock
because, they said, a madman
is incapable of loving anyone.
