The earth sang half a red song.
Earth half sang a white song.
And so
behind the song of red,
and so
behind the song behind the white -
battering rams rattled into a locked future,
beams of bristles scraped,
swept.
Hands have grown,
easy to unravel
unknown dimensions of soul and earth.
Scrambled riots with a broom
shopkeepers,
without the usual bargaining,
scattered a scalded anthill
from banks,
shops,
office.
To the thickness of the choking embankments and dams
to the cities
from the oceans
the water moved.
Telegraph poles here,
then there
cathedrals were pulled up on wires.
Throwing away the old foundation,
a skyscraper followed the skyscraper,
like a tiger in a menagerie -
meat
pounds,
with the mouth of the gates of the mansion.
Taking themselves out of the pavements, —
Where, master, your place? —
into mirrored glasses of diamond shops
rushed the cobblestones of the pavement.
Not afraid to run aground,
not afraid to run carcasses on the bell tower,
simply -
how are you and me -
whales walked on land.
Red everything,
and all, what was white,
beat each other,
was and sang.
Danced Wilson
at the cack walk palace,
wrapped back and forth,
yes did not finish a leg of equines,
Wilson looks at the door,
and in the door there -
unshakable,
gait ominous,
person by person,
thing by thing
tumble through the door into this:
"Lord Wilsons,
please go to answer!»