their death wish come true mourned by poets in communion dead muses in abject thread count shrouds there lay Brute in his "et tu" tu? there Cesar bleeds for art and politic a writer's sword rusts in obscure earth
though here, among Himalayan thorns blossom greens and early orange berries plucked by blue birds and titmouse scratching foot-tiny script onto tree moss read by a literal sway of conscious antenna archived in depths of a comatose cosmos