5430. IN SAVAGE ESSENCE

IN SAVAGE ESSENCE

In savage essence there's really nothing at all  -  neither 

the wounding nor the licking of wounds. We've built 

our timepieces in the way of all watches - slow moving,

a steady tick, and forging ahead nonetheless. I have

seen centuries float by me at 791 Broadway alone :

all those ginghams come a-cropper, the wiry girls

with so little left. Ballerinas and ballet masters all 

in a row. Up here, even acetylene is against the 

law, but they've used it all up anyway.

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Torment like this really is the sculptor's lot in life.

The artist with the pointillist eye, the man who

makes drawings with nickels and dimes, they

as well are all the same really : Picasso rats

or masters of idolatry.

-

In the Greek church on the corner, or

somewhere else around here, they will

bless your pets and your baskets of

food for a fee at their Easter rites.

Peasants, peasants, please pay up.

The land all around us is paved

and torn. Will they bless as well

this descent to Hell?