Suddenly The Living Are Dying
DAVID MICHAEL TIBET
Nero with his axes
And piles of skies gurgling
Behind him
Diocletian smiles
And the garlands of meat fall tall
Who made the windmills?
And who made the whirlpools?
Who made the crows?
And who made the stones?
Who formed the foam
From Aleph the Father?
Behind the flowers
The mother of the cows
Dreaming of trees
In the colouring fields
My face dissolves in folds
And I disappear
