Her self in her manner not the solid block,

The day in its color not perpending time,

Time in its weather, our most sovereign lord,

The weather in words and words in sounds of sound.

These devastations are the divertissements

Of a destroying spiritual that digs-a-dog,

Whines in its hole for puppies to come see,

Springs outward, being large, and, in the dust,

Being small, inscribes ferocious alphabets,

Flies like a bat expanding as it flies,

Until its wings bear off night’s middle witch;

And yet remains the same, the beast of light,

Groaning in half-exploited gutturals

The need of its element, the final need

Of final access to its element—

Of access like the page of a wiggy book,

Touched suddenly by the universal flare

For a moment, a moment in which we read and repeat

The eloquences of light’s faculties.

Paisant Chronicle

What are the major men? All men are brave.

All men endure. The great captain is the choice

Of chance. Finally, the most solemn burial

Is a paisant chronicle.

Men live to be

Admired by men and all men, therefore, live

To be admired by all men. Nations live

To be admired by nations. The race is brave.

The race endures. The funeral pomps of the race

Are a multitude of individual pomps

And the chronicle of humanity is the sum

Of paisant chronicles.

The major men—

That is different. They are characters beyond

Reality, composed thereof. They are

The fictive man created out of men.

They are men but artificial men. They are

Nothing in which it is not possible

To believe, more than the casual hero, more

Than Tartuffe as myth, the most Molière,

The easy projection long prohibited.

The baroque poet may see him as still a man

As Virgil, abstract. But see him for yourself,

The fictive man. He may be seated in

A café. There may be a dish of country cheese

And a pineapple on the table. It must be so.

Flyer’s Fall

This man escaped the dirty fates,

Knowing that he died nobly, as he died.

Darkness, nothingness of human after-death,

Receive and keep him in the deepnesses of space—

Profundum, physical thunder, dimension in which

We believe without belief, beyond belief.

Description without Place

I

It is possible that to seem—it is to be,

As the sun is something seeming and it is.

The sun is an example. What it seems

It is and in such seeming all things are.

Thus things are like a seeming of the sun

Or like a seeming of the moon or night

Or sleep. It was a queen that made it seem

By the illustrious nothing of her name.

Her green mind made the world around her green.

The queen is an example … This green queen

In the seeming of the summer of her sun

By her own seeming made the summer change.

In the golden vacancy she came, and comes,

And seems to be on the saying of her name.