1
 There are things
 We live among ‘and to see them
 Is to know ourselves’.
 Occurrence, a part
 Of an infinite series,
 The sad marvels;
 Of this was told
 A tale of our wickedness.
 It is not our wickedness.
 ‘You remember that old town we went to, and we sat in the ruined window, and we tried to imagine that we belonged to those times—It is dead and it is not dead, and you cannot imagine either its life or its death; the earth speaks and the salamander speaks, the spring comes and only obscures it—’
 2
 So spoke of the existence of things,
 An unmanageable pantheon
 Absolute, but they say
 Arid.
 A city of the corporations
 Glassed
 In dreams
 And images—
 And the pure joy
 Of the mineral fact
 Tho it is impenetrable
 As the world, if it is matter,
 Is impenetrable.
 3
 The emotions are engaged
 Entering the city
 As entering any city.
 We are not coeval
 With a locality
 But we imagine others are,
 We encounter them. Actually
 A populace flows
 Thru the city.
 This is a language, therefore, of New York
 4
 For the people of that flow
 Are new, the old
 New to age as the young
 To youth
 And to their dwelling
 For which the tarred roofs
 And the stoops and doors—
 A world of stoops—
 Are petty alibi and satirical wit
 Will not serve.
 5
 The great stone
 Above the river
 In the pylon of the bridge
 ‘1875’
 Frozen in the moonlight
 In the frozen air over the footpath, consciousness
 Which has nothing to gain, which awaits nothing,
 Which loves itself
 6
 We are pressed, pressed on each other,
 We will be told at once
 Of anything that happens
 And the discovery of fact bursts
 In a paroxysm of emotion
 Now as always. Crusoe
 We say was
 ‘Rescued’.
 So we have chosen.
 7
 Obsessed, bewildered
 By the shipwreck
 Of the singular
 We have chosen the meaning
 Of being numerous.
 8
 Amor fati
 The love of fate
 For which the city alone
 Is audience
 Perhaps blasphemous.
 Slowly over islands, destinies
 Moving steadily pass
 And change
 In the thin sky
 Over islands
 Among days
 Having only the force
 Of days
 Most simple
 Most difficult
 9
 ‘Whether, as the intensity of seeing increases, one’s distance from Them, the people, does not also increase’
 I know, of course I know, I can enter no other place
 Yet I am one of those who from nothing but man’s way of thought and one of his dialects and what has happened to me
 Have made poetry
 To dream of that beach
 For the sake of an instant in the eyes,
 The absolute singular
 The unearthly bonds
 Of the singular
 Which is the bright light of shipwreck
 10
 Or, in that light, New arts! Dithyrambic, audience-as-artists! But I will listen to a man, I will listen to a man, and when I speak I will speak, tho he will fail and I will fail. But I will listen to him speak. The shuffling of a crowd is nothing—well, nothing but the many that we are, but nothing.
 Urban art, art of the cities, art of the young in the cities—The isolated man is dead, his world around him exhausted
 And he fails! He fails, that meditative man! And indeed they cannot ‘bear’ it.
 11
  it is that light
 Seeps anywhere, a light for the times
 In which the buildings
 Stand on low ground, their pediments
 Just above the harbor
 Absolutely immobile,
 Hollow, available, you could enter any building,
 You could look from any window
 One might wave to himself
 From the top of the Empire State Building—
 Speak
 If you can
 Speak
 Phyllis—not neo-classic,
 The girl’s name is Phyllis—
 Coming home from her first job
 On the bus in the bare civic interior
 Among those people, the small doors
 Opening on the night at the curb
 Her heart, she told me, suddenly tight with happiness—
 So small a picture,
 A spot of light on the curb, it cannot demean us
 I too am in love down there with the streets
 And the square slabs of pavement—
 To talk of the house and the neighborhood and the docks
 And it is not ‘art’
 12
 ‘In these explanations it is presumed that an experiencing subject is one occasion of a sensitive reaction to an actual world.’
 the rain falls
 that had not been falling
 and it is the same world
 . . .
 They made small objects
 Of wood and the bones of fish
 And of stone. They talked,
 Families talked,
 They gathered in council
 And spoke, carrying objects.
 They were credulous,
 Their things shone in the forest.
 They were patient
 With the world.
 This will never return, never,
 Unless having reached their limits
 They will begin over, that is,
 Over and over
 13
  unable to begin
 At the beginning, the fortunate
 Find everything already here. They are shoppers,
 Choosers, judges; . . . And here the brutal
 is without issue, a dead end.
  They develop
 Argument in order to speak, they become
 unreal, unreal, life loses
 solidity, loses extent, baseball’s their game
 because baseball is not a game
 but an argument and difference of opinion
 makes the horse races. They are ghosts that endanger
 One’s soul. There is change
 In an air
 That smells stale, they will come to the end
 Of an era
 First of all peoples
 And one may honorably keep
 His distance
 If he can.
 14
 I cannot even now
 Altogether disengage myself
 From those men
 With whom I stood in emplacements, in mess tents,
 In hospitals and sheds and hid in the gullies
 Of blasted roads in a ruined country,
 Among them many men
 More capable than I—
 Muykut and a sergeant
 Named Healy,
 That lieutenant also—
 How forget that? How talk
 Distantly of ‘The People’
 Who are that force
 Within the walls
 Of cities
 Wherein their cars
 Echo like history
 Down walled avenues
 In which one cannot speak.
 15
 Chorus (androgynous): ‘Find me
 So that I will exist, find my navel
 So that it will exist, find my nipples
 So that they will exist, find every hair
 Of my belly, I am good (or I am bad),
 Find me.’
 16
 ‘. . . he who will not work shall not eat,
 and only he who was troubled shall find rest,
 and only he who descends into the nether world shall rescue his beloved,
 and only he who unsheathes his knife shall be given Isaac again. He who will not work shall not eat. . .
 17
 The roots of words
 Dim in the subways
 There is madness in the number
 Of the living
 ‘A state of matter’
 There is nobody here but us chickens
 Anti-ontology—
 He wants to say
 His life is real,
 No one can say why
 It is not easy to speak
 A ferocious mumbling, in public
 Of rootless speech
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 It is the air of atrocity,
 An event as ordinary
 As a President.
 A plume of smoke, visible at a distance
 In which people burn.
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 Now in the helicopters the casual will
 Is atrocious
 Insanity in high places,
 If it is true we must do these things
 We must cut our throats
 The fly in the bottle
 Insane, the insane fly
 Which, over the city
 Is the bright light of shipwreck
 20
 —They await
 war, and the news
 Is war
 As always
 That the juices may flow in them
 Tho the juices lie.
 Great things have happened
 On the earth and given it history, armies
 And the ragged hordes moving and the passions
 Of that death. But who escapes
 Death
 Among these riders
 Of the subway,
 They know
 But now as I know
 Failure and the guilt
 Of failure.
 As in Hardy’s poem of Christmas
 We might half-hope to find the animals
 In the sheds of a nation
 Kneeling at midnight,
 Farm animals,
 Draft animals, beasts for slaughter
 Because it would mean they have forgiven us,
 Or which is the same thing,
 That we do not altogether matter.
 21
 There can be a brick
 In a brick wall
 The eye picks
 So quiet of a Sunday
 Here is the brick, it was waiting
 Here when you were born
 Mary-Anne.
 22
 Clarity
 In the sense of transparence,
 I don’t mean that much can be explained
 Clarity in the sense of silence.





















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