"When I Heard the learn'd astronomer..."

for Allen Ginsberg

A bitter twitter,

flitter,

of birds

in evening's

settling,

a reckoning

beckoning,

someone's getting

some sad freshs

the birds gone to nest

to perch

in the darkness,

asking no improvident questions,

none singing,

no hark,

no lark,

nothing in the quiet dark.

Begun with like hypothesis,

arms, head, shoulders,

with material part state

better soon than late,

better not wait,

better not be late,

breathe ease,

fall to knee

in position of compliance,

obeisance,

accommodation

a motivation.

All combination of parts to form a wholes must be imagination

which works,

albeit have quirks.

what

you had contemplation

Many's a twenty?

A three?

Is twenty-three

plenty?

A call to reason

then

in owed season,

a proposal of heaven

at seven

in the evening,

a chalice of tea, a sense

of satisfy

for anyone works for a living,

getting and giving.

Does it look mind's all?

What's it mean

to be inside

a circle, to soar

in the sky, dear bird?

Words scattered,

tattered,

yet

said

make it

all evident,

manifest.

No argue

One's one again.

It's done.

Hurry upon friend.

There is no extreme point

to desire.

to Blake's fire,

to Beckett's mire,

to any similar whatever.

Old friend's dead

in bed.

Old friends die.

Goodbye!

Copyright World metrical composition Incorporated May/Jun 1999

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