Common Nocturne

Common Nocturne

A
breath opens operatic breaches

in the walls,– blurs the pivoting of crumbling roofs,–

disperses the boundaries

of hearths,– eclipses the windows.

Along the vine, having rested my foot on a waterspout,

I climbed down into this coach,

its period indicated clearly enough

by the convex panes of glass,

the bulging panels, the contorted sofas.

Isolated hearse of my sleep,

shepherd’s house of my insanity,

the vehicle veers on the grass

of the obliterated highway:

and in the defect at the top

of the right-hand windowpane

revolve pale lunar figures, leaves, and breasts. —

A
very deep green and blue invade the picture.

Unhitching near a spot of gravel. —

Here will they whistle for the storm,

and the Sodoms and Solymas,

and
the wild beasts and the armies,

(Postilion and animals of dream,

will they begin again in the stifling

forests to plunge me up to my eyes

in the silken spring?)

And, whipped through the splashing of waters

and spilled drinks, send us rolling

on the barking of bulldogs…

–A breath disperses

the boundaries of the hearth.