Rest HouseI stayed long in the shadow of the deadonly after I left,was goneto a place where the dead could beseen strollinga tight circle,preparingfor the phase of being dead that ischaracterized by reappearance.was there,the shell of your eggRest HouseA scattered peacelike netsthe old woman gathering rose-tasteto marryto ice creamAll around us, the breezecorpsesoverlappingto be welcomedto be giventhe refreshmentthat might stun [them]back intoexistence.Rest HouseThe woman in ground zerolays down in the grasslooks upinto the treesat the monochrome shapesof astrological hospiceThey’re not dead yetshe saysThe trees look downunapprovinglyAre there tiny balloons in the sky?People preparing to leap throughthe bottomlessbrainof their delicate wishes?nor will they lastlong enoughEvery time I see you    you arein the grassor behind small glassreaching into the freezertoward a warm body