Reality is a question 
of realizing how real 
the world is already. 

Time is Eternity, 
ultimate and immovable; 
everyone's an angel. 

It's Heaven's mystery 
of changing perfection : 
absolute Eternity 

changes! Cars are always 
going down the street, 
lamps go off and on. 

It's a great flat plain; 
we can see everything 
on top of a table. 

Clams open on the table, 
lambs are eaten by worms 
on the plain. The motion 

of change is beautiful, 
as well as form called 
in and out of being. 


Next : to distinguish process 
in its particularity with 
an eye to the initiation 

of gratifying new changes 
desired in the real world. 
Here we're overwhelmed 

with such unpleasant detail 
we dream again of Heaven. 
For the world is a mountain 

of shit : if it's going to 
be moved at all, it's got 
to be taken by handfuls. 


Man lives like the unhappy 
whore on River Street who 
in her Eternity gets only 

a couple of bucks and a lot 
of snide remarks in return 
for seeking physical love 

the best way she knows how, 
never really heard of a glad 
job or joyous marriage or 

a difference in the heart : 
or thinks it isn't for her, 
which is her worst misery.