Distribution Automatique

Saturday, September 13



She feels satisfied.
For a moment
All of this is at her feet-
And much can be learned.
For a moment
The actual day is forcing itself
Through her door.
And the dry noon.
And the eternal excisions.
If it was there
Isn't it true that eventually
I or she would hear this knocking
Which otherwise would be defined
On a Fortune-telling deck or cookie
As a barely hearable gentle noise?
Here, someone is turning.
Here, someone is lying awake.
Here, someone is burning.
It would be useless to express it.

The mystique of quality
Is the mystique of quantity

The buzzy asides
Prophetic absence
O.K.- nurse-shells-oleander
The deer, cholera, arcane

The busy slides
Signal, bee, Gestaltist
Known since the Big War

Who controls the specifics.
They are the weather patrol
And the waltz crew-
Oh, don't sputter...

Les Halles
Les Mots

Bittersweet reflections
Landing crew