9

      suppose

      Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

      young death sits in a café

      smiling, a piece of money held between

      his thumb and first finger

      (i say “will he buy flowers” to you

      and “Death is young

      life wears velour trousers

      life totters, life has a beard” i

      say to you who are silent.–“Do you see

      Life? he is there and here,

      or that, or this

      or nothing or an old man 3 thirds

      asleep, on his head

      flowers, always crying

      to nobody something about les

      roses les bluets

      yes,

      will He buy?

      Les belles bottes–oh hear

      , pas chères”)

      and my love slowly answered I think so. But

      I think I see someone else

      there is a lady, whose name is Afterwards

      she is sitting beside young death, is slender;

      likes flowers.

10

      raise the shade

      will youse dearie?

      rain

      wouldn’t that

      get yer goat but

      we don’t care do

      we dearie we should

      worry about the rain

      huh

      dearie?

      yknow

      i’m

      sorry for awl the

      poor girls that

      gets up god

      knows when every

      day of their

      lives

      aint you

      oo-oo. dearie

      not so

      hard dear

      you’re killing me

11

      here is little Effie’s head

      whose brains are made of gingerbread

      when the judgment day comes

      God will find six crumbs

      stooping by the coffinlid

      waiting for something to rise

      as the other somethings did—

      you imagine His surprise

      bellowing through the general noise

      Where is Effie who was dead?

      —to God in a tiny voice,

      i am may the first crumb said

      whereupon its fellow five

      crumbs chuckled as if they were alive

      and number two took up the song,

      might i’m called and did no wrong

      cried the third crumb, i am should

      and this is my little sister could

      with our big brother who is would

      don’t punish us for we were good;

      and the last crumb with some shame

      whispered unto God, my name

      is must and with the others i’ve

      been Effie who isn’t alive

      just imagine it I say

      God amid a monstrous din

      watch your step and follow me

      stooping by Effie’s little, in

      (want a match or can you see?)

      which the six subjunctive crumbs

      twitch like mutilated thumbs:

      picture His peering biggest whey

      coloured face on which a frown

      puzzles, but I know the way—

      (nervously Whose eyes approve

      the blessed while His ears are crammed

      with the strenuous music of

      the innumerable capering damned)

      –staring wildly up and down

      the here we are now judgment day

      cross the threshold have no dread

      lift the sheet back in this way.

      here is little Effie’s head

      whose brains are made of gingerbread

12

      Spring is like a perhaps hand

      (which comes carefully

      out of Nowhere)arranging

      a window,into which people look(while

      people stare

      arranging and changing placing

      carefully there a strange

      thing and a known thing here)and

      changing everything carefully

      spring is like a perhaps

      Hand in a window

      (carefully to

      and fro moving New and

      Old things,while