The seraphim hovering over the city
thunder holy holy holy.
They moan and moan
that lone word—a prayer
Just as I write this, thus did Beatrice speak;
Then, desire-brimmed, she turned
To that part of the sky that brightest shines.
Così Beatrice a me com’ ïo scrivo;
poi si rivolse tutta disïante
a quella parte ove ‘l mondo è più vivo.
To this human,
fire was the first word
for out of mind.
Flame before flower. Burn.
Early bird, Burn.
I was economy of one.
God of spruce, god of nerve,
god of beckon, god of glove.
For survival one must starve a little.
The other stores up little maladies.