It was long before the national performance,
preparing for heroes,
carnival time, time of
political decorations and the tearing of treaties.
Long before the prophecies came true.
For cities also play their brilliant lives.
They have their nightmares. They have their nights of peace.
Senility, wisecracks, tomb, tomb.

Bunting, plaster of Paris whores, electrified unicorns.
Pyramids of mirrors and the winking sphinx,
flower mosaics on the floor of stores,
ballets of massacres. Cut-glass sewers,
red velvet hangings stained the walls of jails,
white lacquer chairs in the abortionists’,
boxers, mummies for policemen, wigs
on the meat at the butchers’, murderers
eating their last meal under the Arch of Peace.

The unemployed brought all the orange trees,
cypress trees, tubbed rubber plants, and limes,
conifers, loblolly and the tamaracks,
incongruous flowers to a grove wherein
they sat, making oranges. For in that cold season
fruit was golden could not be guaranteed.

It was long before the riderless horse came streaming
hot to the Square. I walked at noon and saw
that face run screaming through the crowd saying Help
but its mouth would not open and they could not hear.

It was long before the troops entered the city
that I looked up and saw the Floating Man.
Explain yourself I cried at last. I am
the angel waste, your need which is your guilt,
answered, affliction and a fascist death.

It was long before the city was bombed I saw
fireworks, mirrors, gilt, consumed in flame,
we show this you said the flames, speak it speak it
but I was employed then making straw oranges.
Everything spoke :flames, city, glass, but I
had heavy mystery thrown against the heart.

It was long before the fall of the city.
Ten days before the appearance of the skull.
Five days until the skull showed clean,
and now the entry is prepared.
Carnival’s ready.
Let’s dance a little before we go home to hell.