A Dialogue Between Heaven & Earth.
All words exist merely for the effect.
Now withered is Imagery's Rose, knowing at last
that by her birth World began,
and through her death will end, "Then
to your Grave! Past's fallen petal,
you Spirit so disperpetual: To the kind Tomb!"
& quite forget this momentary
--After all satisfactions
All Repose! Hates, loves then slink away from Man
overtaken with a silken drowsiness (becoming something
like stars wept by the Cosmos, like words): where
there is no sense in trying to assign Cause to them
If spoken words could be erased without leaving a scar
O what sweet resurrections there would be
as of that (among the living)
Nothing exists in a vacuum: I sit
watching wandering stars
uneventfully, & wondering Whom is it
that I watch them for? Or, speculate up-
on unreal particulars (too late)
from th'shadowy moon-bathed mirador
speaking across dull funneled pens
(with tips olivetti) to unlistening men, [sic]
wounding my lips with lies' liquor
that Blood might paint vocables pure,
molding my Mind-looks Pulchritude
I sing! my Voice wasting away
whilst walking (in) Th'Common Solitude
of th'human flocks & herds ...
thinking himself The Future's True Cause
Thus cried Adam d'Many to the viciously empty Night:
"O YHWH, forgive me, YHWH!!" And, "As, here, You are
The Only, Singular One, The One, Only, and Singular
God: Alone You must forgive me all I do!"
O, you fool! "Keep to!" After the idle trance
that is this brief life-passage, the Wake
will rest you ever so softly upon
sweetest Forgetfulness & Reap No More!
Ask me how soon is Certainty,
Why must Mankind endeavor?
Peace? Hope? or, Freedom?...
Ask me no more why you're a whore!
reasons are for philosophers: I am The
Poet, who doth never Propose
but looks over the wings unmanageable of The Wind,
entones the unfair lines of The Rose,
(and) Nothing but Nothing owns
save that this World began with my birth
and with my death must end.