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Under this Luxemburg of heaven,
upright capstan,
small eagles. . . .
is the port of N.Y. . . . . .

gilders, stampers, pen makers, goldbeaters,

apprehensions of thunder
speed
the whore
indifference
son
glioma

Tammany, McCoy,
the bonze doors of the Guarantee Trust,
the copper spandrels.

Orangerie and game room
with Old English tall twisted
stem engraved goblets
and Royal Copenhagen porcelain.

A mutton fat jade
Chien Lung
bowl
a toilet bottle
amethyst
stopper & monogram shield.

A technical display.
You bought a perfume bottle
and a Chinese shawl.
Susannah set a headstone in St. Paul.
I'm inside waiting for a surprise
I'm in love with the girl on the Wabash
I'm alone with a hand in my hand
and a pair of wonderful eyes

but I'm blue
I have to speak
I want to do
I want to see
the sights obscure me
the facts secure me

The Maine sails out to sea
the undertaker drives to Hartford

Yesterday the ducks flew in a mackerel sky.
I had the allotropes of vision,
something historical at the controls
of North America,
heavyweight and metaphorical.

What are the facts?
they swept the city hall today
they set the lathe dogs
trimmed the tool posts
scraped the bearings
shellacked the knots,
they set the capital
upon the shaft.

Somebody has to drive the spikes
pitch the gears
oil the cams
somebody has to kill the whisky
somebody has to speak

What are the facts?