Il Vecchietto che Salta
(Jumping for joy)

Rededicated to SR now, then and forever (NYC 2005)

Frank W. Donovan

Milano 1971

Thus between dreams and visions shall you pass your life with no other purpose than its passing: for this is the only fruit the world can offer you and the only design you must set yourself each day upon arising.

(Leopardi-DIALOGO OF T. TASSO E DEL SUO GENIO)

Arrest the instant in formaldehyde
surprising its ovulation,
locked in biological confusion
of protein origin,
the once desired
and since obtained,
this ancient rite
of eternal repetition,
born of abandonment,
dying in emptiness,
the everlasting genitor.

Piazza Poli,
dawn now inevitable,
we found a lodging,
after Sebastiano,
webs of desire,
bitterness of age,
tossed you out,
spinner of dreams
in the old boy's heart.

And then Rosati,
Piazza del Popolo,
funeral home all'italiano,
the sun burned our skins
a Sunday morning in March,
io triumphe.

In a more heroic age
we might all be dead.

Rome, Brussels, London,
spatial illusion
courtesy Alitalia and BEA,
after we banished time
any why
and all the rest.

Bastogne,
a cold December twilight,
I stopped on the Mardassan
to feel the snow and fog
of forgotten days,
reading the names
inscribed in the stone,
dead past any aspirations,
most laudable redemption
beneath Von Rundstedt's tanks.

A serious business,
these women and friends
and so forth,
a serious business
no doubt,
with certain reservations,
naturally.

Years ago,
I barely remember now,
then slightly more than a child,
and mostly not involved,
the world became too real.

Response of Tasso's muse
upon being asked
his habitual abode,
"You still haven't guessed?
Look for me in heady spirits."