ADAGIO: A DUET

(For J. S. and L. U.)

Should you lay ear to these lines— you will not catch a distant drum of hoofs, cavalcade of Arabians, passionate horde bearing down, destroying your citadel— but maybe you'll hear— should you just listen at the right place, hold it tenaciously, give your full blood to the effort— maybe you'll note the start of a single step, always persistently faint, wavering in its movement between coming and going, never quite arriving, never quite passing— and tell me which it is, you or I that you greet, searching a mutual being— and whether two aren't closer for the labor of an ear?

DIE KÜCHE

She lets the hydrant water run: He fancies lonely, banal, bald-headed mountains, affected by the daily caress of the tropical sun, weeping tears the length of brooks down their faces and flanks. She lets the hydrant water run: He hearkens Father Sebastian cooking and spreading homely themes over an inept-looking clavier confounding the wits of his children and all men's children down to the last generation. He marvels at the paradox, drums his head with the tattoo: how can a thing as small as he shape and maintain an art out of himself universal enough to carry her daily vigil to crystalled immortality? She lets the hydrant water run.

RAIN

It's all very well for you suddenly to withdraw and say, I'll come again, but what of the bruises you've left, what of the green and the blue, the yellow, purple and violet?— don't you be telling us, I'm innocent of these, irresponsible of happenings— didn't we see you steal next to her, tenderly, with your silver mist about you to hide your blandishment?— now, what of what followed, eh?— we saw you hover close, caress her, open her pore-cups, make a cross of her, quickly penetrate her— she opening to you, engulfing you, every limb of her, bud of her, pore of her?— don't call these things, kisses— mouth-kisses, hand-kisses, elbow, knee and toe, and let it go at that— disappear and promise what you'll never perform: we've known you to slink away until drought-time, drooping-time, withering-time: we've caught you crawling off into winter-time, try to cover what you've done with a long white scarf— your own frozen tears (likely phrase!) and lilt your, I'll be back in spring! Next spring, and you know it, she won't be the same, though she may look the same to you from where you are, and invite you down again!