Long ago, I was sent this poem by a friend and I have always wondered
who the author was that wrote it.  I have a suspicion that the
gentleman who sent it me is the author but he would never admit it and
his name appears no where on the Internet.  For privacy reasons, I
will not share his name here.

I wanted to put this question to my fellow Researchers in case one of
them was familiar with the poem and/or poet.  I am very curious who is
the author.  Even if it cannot be identified, at least my question
will serve to share the words:


"O come, let us spread our picnic upon the precipice
Eat, drink and be merry
And turn our backs to the abyss
'Til the inert dawn comes
When swallows cannot be told from bats
Nor gilt from thread
And we will banish solemn songs like this.

"This is our hopeless heaven
These flowers our eyes have watered
Wine drawn from our veins
Tunes piped from hollowed bones
And gaiety pouring from every wound."

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Clarification of Question by journalist-ga on 12 Apr 2003 11:37 PDT

I should add that, as a GA Researcher, I have done moderate searching
on the Internet concerning the poem and have yet to meet with success.

Couldn't find it (d*mn), but just wanted to let you know we're out
here looking.  It's a pretty sophisticated poem, actually.

paf