Among the Cypresses at the End of the Way of the Cross

Will you eat watermelon
Or drink lemonade
Beside San Miniato
This hot twilight
Arno blurring in its white dry cobbled bed
Wine honey olive oil
Fill the air with their secret vapors
And a black potter
Treads treads treads
Her wheel shaping a pot
With a template cut from your flesh
Lovers whimper in the dusk
We are lost do you hear
We are all lost
As the hundred bells break
And the stars speak