NOW IS OUR
MOMENTARY DEVISE
Tractor man is five thousand years old, marking
stones with runic symbols, leaving paths and miles
of rock-pillars. We know nothing now yet insist
on calling it Broadway. And the lights go on again.
-
Halter tops and maidens with brains. Short fat guys
with hammers and concrete. The black African selling
shawls and sunglasses where soon Winter will be.
Everything together. This strange Nature bears its
own potpourri - a willing amalgamation of
circumstance and desire, devise and want.
-
We make our own twirling world with the
simplest clay we are given; for now is
our momentary devise.
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