To start us off, some Lithuanian remnants. (If YOU have a favorite dead poet, let me know!)
On the Road, Czeslaw Milosz
To what summoned? And to whom? blindly, God almighty,
through horizons of woolly haze.
Fata morganas of coppery scales on the fortresses of
Through a smoke of vines burning over creekbeds or through
the blue myrrh of dimmed churches,
To the unattainable, small valley, shaded forever by words,
where the two of us, naked and kneeling, are cleansed by an
Without the apple of knowledge, on long loops from earth to
sky, from sky to the dried blood of potter's soil.
Disinherited of prophecies, eating bread at noon under a
tall pine stronger than any hope.
Image: CD Friedrich, Man and Woman Contemplating Over the Moon