Saturday, December 22, 2012


The simple stays in disarray,
The loose dust a sunny empire
Of hovels and broad boulevards
On a hospital windowsill

As on a desk in a study,
On chipped tabletops in diners
As on the feet of the bronze lamps
In old velvet hotel lobbies.

Bright light and direct attention
Create the visions, not the dust,
But a love of the disordered
Brings the gold-leaf to the waste.

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