The Tomb of Bert Allen Laub

Born January 19, 1939 - Died in May 1995

With naked sword the Poet awakens, changed by Eternity into Himself

Not an elaborate sarcophagus ...a slender volume of verse, spine turned to wall, collecting dust on a high shelf in a forgotten library

When all is drunk and drunkenness
Subsides to vast and tepid calm,
My harp and I shall chord a psalm
For something no one may possess.

O let the unfulfilled embalm
With lyrical forgetfulness,
You! whose so possible caress
Obscures the whiteness of your palm

Bert Allen Laub 1960

 "Solitude, recif, etoile..."