Portraits IX at the ferocious phenomenon of 5 o’clock i find myself gently decompos- ing in the mouth of New York. Between its supple financial teeth delir- lously sprouting from complacent gums,a morsel prettily wanders buoy- ed on the murderous saliva of industry. the morsel is i. Vast cheeks enclose me. a gigantic uvula with imperceptible gesticulations threatens the tub- ular downward blackness occasionally from which detatching itself bumps clumsily into the throat A meticulous vulgarity: a sodden fastidious normal explosion;a square murmur,a winsome flatu- lence— In the soft midst of the tongue sits the Woolworth building a serene pastile-shaped insipid kinesis of frail swooping lozenge. a ruglike sentience whose papillæ expertly drink the docile perpendicular taste of this squirming cube of undiminished silence,supports while devour- ing the firm tumult of exquisitely insecure sharp algebraic music. For the first time in sorting from this vast nonchalant inward walk of volume the flat minute gallop of careful hugeness i am conjugated by the sensual mysticism of entire vertical being ,i am skilfully con- strued by a delicately experimenting colossus whose irrefutable spiral antics involve me with the soothings of plastic hypnotism .i am ac- curately parsed by this gorgeous rush of upward lips.... cleverly perching on the sudden extremity of one immense tooth myself surveys safely the complete important profane frantic inconsequential gastro- nomic mystery of mysteries ,life. Far below myself the lunging leer of horizontal large distinct ecstasy wags and.rages Laughters jostle grins nudge smiles push—. deep into the edgeless gloaming gladness hammers incessant putrid spikes of mad- ness (at Myself’s height these various innocent ferocities are superceded by the sole prostituted ferocity of silence,it is) still 5 o’clock I stare only always into the tremendous canyon the ,tremendous canyon always only exhales a climbing dark exact walloping human noise of digestible millions whose rich slovenly obscene proces- sion always floats through the thin amorous enormous only lips of the evening And it is 5 o’clock in the oblong air, from which a singular ribbon of common sunset is hanging, snow speaks slowly