FRAG 124

"The most beautiful order
[says Heraclitus] is a heap of
sweepings, piled up at random."

The silencings, the whimpers,

And the cries. The cries.

Speak softly,

Watchman of the night, but speak.


Tempos of our times, the rhymes

Arise again. The rhymes.

Speak slowly,

Watchman of the night, but speak.


The halting, the mournful drone

Loud, tuneless, out of time.

Speak tiresome,

Watchman of the night, but speak.


Mute monsters thrive, come alive.

Let alone, let be.

Speak timid,

Watchman of the night, but speak.


Jade and opulent whispers

And opals. Opals and jade.

Speak brazen,

Watchman of the night, but speak.



Nightmares howl and gibber thru

Open latches, jimmied locks.

Shreik wanton,

Watchman of the night, but speak.

Rampant furies, unmet needs,

Shaken sodas, aching sores.

Speak vicious,

Watchman of the night, but speak

The openings, the breathings deep,

The loud cries. The cries.


Speak deeply,

Watchman of the night, but speak.

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