Void Manufacturing

“Turning and turning in a cell, like a fly that doesn’t know where to die.”

A poem by Wallace Stevens

Posted by voidmanufacturing on July 26, 2008

The Death of a Soldier

Life contracts and death is expected,
As in a season of autumn.
The soldier falls.

He does not become a three-days personage,
Imposing his separation,
Calling for pomp.

Death is absolute and without memorial,
As in a season of autumn,
When the wind stops,

When the wind stops and, over the heavens,
The clouds go, nevertheless,
In their direction.

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