Oh you gatherer
of the fine ash of poetry
ash of the too-white flame
of poetry
Consider those who have burned before you
in the so-white fire
Crucible of Keats and Campana
Bruno and Sappho
Rimbaud and Poe and Corso
And Shelley burning on the beach
at Viarreggio
And now in the night
in the general conflagration
the white light
still consuming us
small clowns
with our little tapers
held to the flame
