the dove brush against
the secretary’s temple –
his engagement ring went down
on the table –:
I wish to
sense a falcon’s nest and hear
the youngsters cry out
in the flagstaff of life –
I wish, to
see moose swim
a wading mile through
moon-flood and swamp-sparkling
secrets –
I wish, to
grab a thin forest trail,
which reclines comfortably in the glitter of sunlight
on the choking-border
eel-slips and disappears
in a grass snake’s egg or
a mouse eye –
I wish, to
shoot an enemy
and to slap my |
wife with a
green salt-wave –
the dove flew away –
the secretary exclaimed
(Wednesday at 16.15):
c’est impossible
(what?)
all –
I hate hitler and
lenin
equally and liqueur
just as much as
watercolour –
c’est impossible
(what?)
to go on (like this)
the secretary whispers:
I
want TIME to
find
the indispensable!