AS WE KNOW
IT NOW AGAIN
I haven't ever understood the nodding relationship
between this end and that place : the small girl
in the black robe holds her arm out, with a camera
at the hand, the light flashes as she snaps away.
Gentlemen, in their old skin, walk stiffly off, one of
them archly smoking a pipe. The razorhat brigade,
all over 70, it seems, comes snappily by, being
driven in carts. Old pros, professionals anyway,
limping along though too limp to limp. The blue
sky above festers in its own moment; a new
presence in a very old and tired drama. Life!
Life as old as sin, as we know it now again.