asphalt armies overwhelming the curbs, they are climbing the trench, the asphalts with their manhole shields, with their gas-line pipecover helms, with their yellow center lines of spears and no parking sign posts charging up the lots, totally overtaking the lots, such a victory for the asphalts, for the sun ! Romping around all over the clear asphalt pit in total victory is the light — the light, the pebbles, the gravel.
If a sentence of writing were equal to a moment in time:
a brick condo of the kind we just exited.
If a sentence were equal to a moment:
that is a concrete drainage gully tunnel, or culvert
This second concerns a bellowing bodily function.
This moment tracks a squirrel tail’s travails and tacs — then tacs.
This moment is like a bubble out of a thick sulphurous mud,
A “thought” or thinking about “perception qua hand.”
The curtain of seeing we stand behind: putting the idea in through
Its fabric, we find it now seen or heard.
.i`` * ^ / . . . . . ` `~ 