"We have seen wonders," so they say,
"We have seen blood in the sky,
And blinding rings of fire;
And all things past, and all the things to come.
We know the secrets of Kabbal, the Tarot,
The Mysteries, the minglings
Of Great Books, have heard
The words of angels, demons and the dead.
(How, then, are we mad?) Surely now
The Womb is racked with pain, surely
It is the Birthing, the Dawning,
The Second Coming."

Out on the corner, eyes are glass
And fists granite in the amber night;
Out on the corner, men are only
Men, out on the corner, singing,
Really singing those old Temptations tunes.
On Saturday night at Polk & Oak
They get the joke; where Death
Courts like a country gent, dancing
First with this one, next with that, and Christ
Washes unholy feet again & again & again
They chuckle mightily.
Out on the corner there is no use
Considering such matters, no profit
In setting them on scales
To weigh them, one against another.
No seer can stall, nor brooder
Over brittle texts can hasten
The rising or the setting of the sun,
Which goes about its business unperturbed.
And under it, the fools know only
The tip of the hat, the smile & song; the fools have only
Life, and plenty of it.

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