"constantly astonished anew"

Because they’re there and we’re
Skipping the marathon
To make love, marathons always

Make me cry anyway, applause drowning
Out the fourth cover of Foxy
Lady, a fat man named Klaus veering

Toward the median and I was
Reminded of the end of Cobra Verde
When Kinski eventually

Abandons his body to
The tide and the terrifically deformed
Man quits his pursuit to gaze

Upon it, we do not appear
To prepare to appear, yet I am not
Without myself, let us

Hold to the appearances and in
Our holding release
The burdens of these bodies made

Thick with unconscious
Care, the tic-tic
Of the birds goes out, my head

Dissolves into the Babbling
Flower, a panoply of hues is resolving
As constantly I am

Astonished anew, a man
For whom the divers tones
Of a mental life meld

At once, though I am still
Too man to know how, to no use
Is it that I wrench

These meanings as it is our fate to live
In the bulging zones
Of indetermination, each hastily

Snagged difference alighting
Within the necessity
Of trapping the next, it is thus that

Our being free diminishes
The existence of all
Other, that our choosing makes

Objects in its sweep
From here to there to here
Again, our needs

Not only consume us
But tear at the very world we deem
Available, a dancing figure

From China leans to
Gesture with her fired breadstick
Arms, one circle converges

On the next as Hiroyuki Doi replentifies
The present, Berdie slumps
In a chair and is bronzed into choppy

Waves reaching nowhere, living
Matter is from birth
Irritable and the office of the image that I call

My body is emptily retaining
Its retinal store, though
Not with less longing, not with less

Blood to go carousing
At the periphery, I think of your teeth
And am smiling, I think you

Are in surgery and dutifully
Amazed over the opening cavities
Of motionless men