What can I learn about the stags poem?
from the way this beetle cracks its wings;
claws in the street in-front of me, I call this insect:
Bianco! After the Martini I stole
as a student, no pride in hiding the beast!
The fools year rolls over eternal;
the clapping arms of the stag ask night to fly
its back-hinge wings transparent
its hind-legs near my eyes
its birth right, the same as mine.