Poem for the Great Magicians, or, Marxist Mysticism Revisited

Poem for the Great Magicians

 

 

Refused entry at the bourse you turned money into birds and the birds flew to the high branches in Schlossberg and whistled and children were happy. We all come from the stingy soil. But you dear ones, helped us pace our manias under the sheltering, singing trees. 

 

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