To Ezra Pound(1885-1972)
Having loved, and written
so much of the southern land,
at your death they should
have salted and taken your corpse
over the winter passes, upstream
into old Burgundy, sealed
it in a tarred cask, hand-crafted,
to remember the good old ways,
and sent you down the river
on the voyage to the sands of Arles,
where at Alyscamps they
could bury you, or let you rot.
09.10.2020
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