Poetry and Prose

A View Near Tivoli (Morning) Thomas Cole


Allegro non molto
Mother of all who father
Incubus since existence
Though slanderous scripture
Has banished our love between Arctic window
And Antarctic door
Your voice still paces my heart
Sharing the same beautiful complaint
Of life trapped in death

Together a tempestuous song
Promising the flesh’s avalanche

Disrobing the universe of sin and asininity
Where we will fly like heaven again
No more history

…paces from window to door, door to window.
She cries out intermittently, though all I hear is
the Allegro non molto of Vivaldi’s Winter.  They
share the same beautiful complaint: there is life
even in death.  A tempest of hope is moving be-
neath all the boredom.  Soon a break through
the ice and I will fly like heaven, on and on.



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