Tender Buttons (the acoustics of a coup p. XII)

Giddy dread
Against a self shattering hope and the new
sentimentality, two machines measuring one another as some universal minstrel summons their bow in unison, atomic jesters, doubt has been lethal to power, and some mules and some acres cowering from the blast of a straggler bullet, will have been as useless as any principal besides that which announces 'I am time.' And faith that demands you labor against decomposition, I am against that. I believe in coming undone. It is our least violent moment. Hived dispersion. Within the oppressive pentagram of grace, where terror is a lazy matinee which hopes to sell you on daydark rooms in preparation for a doom that isn't coming but why we will it, we need to wonder/what scandals we are willing to invent in order to speak our wills in their effigy. Subtle purple rhythms we don't know how to admit, we don't know why-- Two friends are arguing about salt and traction, claiming our blood could get stuck in a place where the spirit would not know how to fall