(Room x exp f  -- DANCE)

  

                          Dance of Larks

The  eyes  whose  blueness  lumens   loud  even  those

walls  of  eyes  that  stare  out  transparent   death  to

death  from some   central  of   a   secret   are   maybe

yours    old   one    your    frozen   beard   if  only  each

creeping  thing   could  set   forth  the  theorem  of  its

genesis.   Why,   for example,  do  the  fingers  spread

out  into the  fiery nervous  ends  of   things   that  cut

this   savage   stillness  into   glass   that    all’s  that’s

all be double bent again?   And   why  is  why  the dead

do grin as thumbs are thumbs?  Again?   Evil?   Here at

the  cattarracting   waul,   agon   Oscar   drums   again

against and  for  the  doom as we know  the clutch did

fell  the   swoop -  but   we  shiver  as   we   laugh   for

something’s  not  -  as the great  and  gaping gap does

in  insuck  all  those  the  Horsemen  drag  - and  those

that   horsed   the    kingdoms  of   their   waste   their

time. Land?   ( But too long  have  we  sweet  softlied,

and  all  the locks corroded are.)  Are?  Is?  Was?   The

lilly    in   a   crystal   revives    delight   in    this   our

thyme-light-night.    And   still   the  giant   termite of

the queens  does  bobulate  -  immortal  throbbing   in

the  castle’s   keep.   These  things  we  cannot  repair.

            It    is    here,   just   here,   you    slipped   in,

clapping.   You  were  eyes.   Oh,   long   long   did   I

contra    those   your   eyes,    that   neverending   did

contrive  to contrive. So woman.  So Anne.  So,  You.

            Dark.

(Yet I will my  nothings tale on  as the dance restarts.)

           

             And  this  circular  back-turning   trance  did

seem   thus  to   start  as  we  were  lost  in  light, and

the   birds  outside  the  window  spoke in bird.  (The

window  flying in the wind.)    Soon   it   is,   but   not

now,     as     the     clocks     tick    on   the    endless

combinations  of  their   music’s    song   that   speaks

and   thuds   their  ears:  and  the  old  carbons dream

into a  new  metallurgy,  a  copy,  a setting  in a   snow

scene,   and   this   everlasting  startling  re-beginning

thing  that  does  itself  unsing.