A man says yes without knowing
how to decide even what the question is,
and is caught up, and then is carried along

Then I arrived at the capital, vaguely saturated
with fog and rain. What streets were those?
The garments of 1921 were breeding

Now this is it, said Death,
and as far as I could see
Death was looking at me.

I keep a blue bottle.
Inside it an ear and a portrait.
When the night dominates

On the sand
a
lizard

In the half-sun of long days
let us draw our tired bones together

let us forget the unfaithful ones

Why such harsh machinery?
Why, to write down the stuff
and people of every day,

I went into the tool shops
in all innocence
to buy a simple hammer

I was fourteen years old,
brooding, a proud of it,
slim, lithe and frowning,

Grim, and surrendered to their purposes,
their tangibilities of pulp or stone,
the houses, chairs and tables rise again—