He Sings He Sings

high high up
high high high up
the red one sings a song
he sings he sings
and time passes

i dream and i write
now i recall painters and sculptors
i saw twenty years ago
in zurich at the cafe odeon
like logs
like blockheaded blocks
like blocks
like coarse, massive piles
they squat on the benches
and indulge in the disagreeable process of sublimation
they fight and scold one another
but lo, these gentlemen are disappearing
they evaporate
they disappear
and smoking eggs take their places

the red one sings
he sings he sings
i dream and i write
i drink and i sing
and time passes

the red one sings
he sings he sings
everything sings and drifts
in the light

one day we rustle off
like dead leaves
and turn into dust
and change back into sparkles of stars
and sing and drift
blissful in cloaks of fire

high high up
high high high up
the red one sings a song
he sings he sings

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