How does it begin, the collapse of wish?
When you can’t ask how it ends.
This is a joke of the rich.
They play chess with civic statues.
Last night’s snow provides the birds a stage.
Ezra Pound would insert Greek.
ὄνους σύρματʹ ἂν ἑλέσθαι μᾶλλον ἢ χρυσόν
(Asses would rather have straw than gold.)
Three crows on my snowy lawn,
their choreography, all dance sideways
pecking at the remains
of a Christmas wreath…
When I was a lad, well, you know—
I lived in the warrens of an outlawed sect called “the blind”.
Planet of the Blind 