Possessions

Witness now this trust! the rain That steals softly direction And the key, ready to hand--sifting One moment in sacrifice (the direst) Through a thousand nights the flesh Assaults outright for bolts that linger Hidden,--O undirected as the sky That through its black foam has no eyes For this fixed stone of lust....

Accumulate such moments to an hour: Account the total of this trembling tabulation. I know the screen, the distant flying taps And stabbing medley that sways-- And the mercy, feminine, that stays As though prepared.

And I, entering, take up the stone As quiet as you can make a man ... In Bleecker Street, still trenchant in a void, Wounded by apprehensions out of speech, I hold it up against a disk of light-- I, turning, turning on smoked forking spires, The city’s stubborn lives, desires.

Tossed on these horns, who bleeding dies, Lacks all but piteous admissions to be spilt Upon the page whose blind sum finally burns Record of rage and partial appetites. The pure possession, the inclusive cloud Whose heart is fire shall come,--the white wind rase All but bright stones wherein our smiling plays.