One no longer has an age
when absurdity and beauty
wed on a border of blood
licked by the mouths of lost, scented women.
Before leaving I asked you to blind my eyes
to take my sight and make bread of it,
to crumble the bread and scatter the crumbs
in the wheat field in the shadow of the old house.
So that the birds, drawn by the food,
would come close to peck at the crumbs
and carry them on high in their flight
and I would have a large and eternal
view of the world of man and of life
But you loved me and did not listen,
your kiss sealed my sight and my eyes
forever and now when I look at life
I see only what I can see while
sight searches on high for birds in flight.