Corbeau (ascolto della poesia recitata dall’autore)
and flaps our world downward,
because the earth comes to terms
with itself first through its birds,
looming above the identities of days,
rubbing shoulders with rain.
and lowers our earth to us like bait,
because it is ours, and in his wisdom, quietly,
he waits he waits he waits
politely, until we have finished ourselves.
removes himself from the world
or the world from himself,
manoeuvring through the low, difficult blue
until he is all sky. He rises dimly, darkly with
his neck of mail. Shard of night, diving swiftly:
“Prey prey prey!” he says. His business
is what remains.