Sonnets—Actualities XV

(the phonograph’s voice like a keen spider skipping

quickly over patriotic swill.
The,negress,in the,rocker by the,curb,tipping

and tipping,the flocks of pigeons.   An the skil-

ful loneliness,and the rather fat
man in bluishsuspenders half-reading the
Evening Something
                  in the normal window.   and a cat.

A cat waiting for god knows makes me

wonder if i’m alive(eye pries,

not open.   Tail stirs.)   And the,  fire-escapes—
the night. makes me wonder if,if i am
the face of a baby smeared with beautiful jam

or

  my invincible Nearness rapes

laughter from your preferable,eyes