Michael Speier

(1950 / Ranchen)

Non sequitur - Poem by Michael Speier

maybe the wind maybe nothing at all
in the deep wicker chairs
of this star
we've now arrived
where the waste started up
as though it had only been waiting

born into that antique sect
of wiped-out countenances
we'll hold out for sure
(retreat into patience and smashed-up crypts)
like long-legged flies
made of gold

Translated by Richard Dove

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, June 13, 2017

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