Toby Martinez De Las Rivas

Elegy for the young hitler

The eyes, both vacuous & guarded. In the moments of possession, luminous.
Kubizek recalls them as dark light. Chemosh, or some lesser demon known for
its beauty
The maleness of stone. No Reichgarten. The garden inevitably democratic. A superb
copyist, not failed as such.
Kestrel of the suburbs: ceaseless radicalisation of air beneath head & wing
Pity, manifest as an odd, internal lifting. No, not manifest: immanent. Kubizek noted
revulsion at the naked self,
the body politicised in defence: act of war, act of terror
Sterile, paved Lustgarten that in my tongue is the Garden of Pleasure