Goldness and whiteness of woman, like a Grand Rapids bed or a
Sunday paper of brides. The bride coated with power stands in
the strongest light at last. She is clean. The sculptor sets his
jaw and drives to the junkyard. There he can breathe.
Love on the deathbed, love deeper than sunset. The Bros. are
coming. What! is it nothing but that? Is love nothing but that?
Battle of Waterloo, nothing but that? Fraulein, allumeuse? Or
to end a sentence with a preposition?
Six cases of bourbon returned to the caterer and the flowers di
vided. Hymen hymenaee.
Man with the lamp, hands of ferro-concrete, vellum of hand, the
skin as soft as kid. Big black flashlight, size of a horsecock,
mother’s gift. Night silent as handwriting, night with two cats
on long thin ropes. The leather coat of early night on the great
wet lakes. Woman, homo normalis!
Consider also their baths, their bows, their brown blood, their
pots, their stenches, out of which the greatest of sonnet cycles.