FRAG 124
[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.
Watchman of the night, but
speak
The openings, the breathings
deep,
The loud cries. The cries.
Speak deeply,
Watchman of the night, but
speak.