61

see a penny, pick it up, it’s 2 ¢ (and
the IRS spurned), considering taxes,

village, city, county, state, federal,
school, and sales: I cried out to

the heights in my misery, and the
heights said, cool it, and said,

can’t you see I’m making and colliding
galaxies and stuff and watching the

watches (I mean, clocks) and over
there a 150,000,000-stretch of

light years is turning to plasma and
something is always going off like

popcorn, a peppery popping of suns,
or a smacking of wobbly stones

long-dwelt in speed: so I said,
listen, okay, I get it, cool it: &

just there in that wrung moment I
understood the guiding principle and

started scaring up a little supper:
hey, you never know: you could win

the lottery or your poems could come
in for something, your bone could

harden, or the sun could do itself
in, a quick quieting: I would say,

go ahead, call out to the heights:
it couldn’t hurt: the heights,

unmollifiable, continued, listen,
this cut-up method will not work,

I can’t be spoken to this way and
what was it you said anyway: one

could go on with this: in the
beginning, it was easier, I think,

to begin than it is now: there was
some say one big pop, after which

complexity quickly ensued: whereas
if you began today, you would be

faced (figuratively) with an estimated
unenumerated 100 million species:

whereas there were no species at all
at first: when mud separated into

water and rock, then there were three
things: and light: I just feel so

broken down: there isn’t a bit of
room on this tape for a little

expansion or elaboration: sculpture
becomes grit: kidneys, tubules: a

blinding lack of scope and sense’s
fracturing frit: but, of course,

when everything runs, nothing runs
through your mind: the total

answering makes no world where you
can see the carriage rounding the

bend: streams need to break in on
themselves into banks and tend, this

way or that, noticeably apart:
everybody knows that’s what holds us

here forever limited, forever fragile
and not forever: there’s a bump on

my rump, right in the abyss of my
yss