Thursday, March 26, 2020



What of me is part of this old world?
beside me in the car
                                 my wife
she is growing
    inside her
beside me
                 my son is growing

there is not a piece of me here
these mountains are strangers
they have lost me long ago

my ancestors
divorced you

I go forward through your passes
     they are like scarred tombs
 crossing the Alps I see
I am something new

even with your stony ancient glare
you could not know

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