No man lives the moment - the light
Is too crudely rudely staring…
Oh I remember country in the flight
Of evening funerals after much child bearing.
Not swallows septembered on waves of tile
Or the eagerings of apriltime is the full
Of my third eye - but the angel while
When God was unstirred mud in a shallow pool
The Rages blow the dust out of the presses.
My two sense-eyes are observant - I know
The fume and the fretful processes
Of world-thrown jail-birds and their face-brave show
Thy Kingdom Come. Thy Gone
Flashes its broken nimbus [?] with a laugh
No man has worn the moment's perfect one
Time's tom tick delivers [] of chaff.
§ · Line 5 is a correction of:
'Not swallows septembered on tiles or seas'.
Line 7: 'Of my third eye - but the baby glees'
Lines 13 and 14:
'The Kingdom Come. We see the gone
Flashing its broken nimbus like a laugh'.
