Each gesture flees immediately down an alley
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e lives without privacy in a lidless room,The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-openOn the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations. Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.Already he can feel daylight, his white disease, Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions. The city is a map of cheerful twitters now, And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank, Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed. I Am Vertical
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