Spearesques 9

The remains of my worries should be tied at the wrists and littered,

Drayed-off to the place where go the remains to black-winged birds

Who serve their natural office, breaking and fluttering and whitening,

Upturning undersides -- transparent appetite through swift vultury.


Thus to retire from suspect looks, by the urgency of a responding corps

Eager to haul and bury and leave whatever nature wants to have,

Or -- no longer quick -- quickly by a smoke of disappearance --

By such efficiency rest attains; stress not more, I, then.


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