"But the allegory works in the negative because the people of a new book have not come to the table."
"Lord: it is time. The summer was very long.
Lay your shadows across the sundials,
and let the winds blow free across the fields.
Instruct the last of the fruits to ripen:
give them two more days of this southerly clime,
and urge them on towards perfection,
chase the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
No time now to build for those left homeless.
Who remains alone now will find no relief,
but will watch and read and write long letters,
and roam here and there on the windswept streets,
restlessly, while the leaves are cast adrift."
--Rilke tr Martyn Crucefix via
Random # 190 = 361 in base-7; 3 + 6 + 1 = 10 lines
the ardor of the last cicadas prods the dusk
with elegy & valentine
the heat not at its worst makes us suspect a time
when we can steal abroad unscathed
my car whose A/C this third summer doesn't work
i leave the windows cracked a bit
though never has the traffic once acknowledged fire
plunged amidst & glowing steel
O soon let all the bogeys of this awful scrum
a natural death with autumn find
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