Wherever the dead are there they are
Nothing more.
But you and I can
To see angels in the meadowgrass that
Like cows -And wherever we are in paradisein furnished room without bath andsix flights
Is all God!
We
To one another, loving the sound of the
Slipping up on the f’s and much is
Enough to raise the hair on our heads, like Rilke and Wilfred
Any person who loves another person,
Wherever in the world, is with us in this room -Even though there are battlefields.
