In the clouds and mist
of the alps poetics rise
sounds of salvation and Julie’s kiss
a fantasy verse of fertile skies
The ice-man cometh with mortal screed
battling echoes of wars’ confusions
talus slope timing springtime’s seeds
for peace and growth the players need
Spear-points, shards, fragments and futures
A.I., nuclear, microwavable holocausts
no good reason can even suture
the body of conflict’s unaffordable loss.
