in the hump of glass a sweet voice sings 
larger and larger grew the empty spaces in the marble nests 
and when at last they were full grown 
they were fragrant as flowers 
and were plucked by costumes overladen with gold 
the costumes carried them to the rose-red births 
that lay on serpentine ways 
and transparent serpents 
and cast audible shadows into the visible 
the big goddamns arise from their seats 
and crowd the little lightnings into the cracks in the air 
the big lightnings shatter the little goddamns 
the goddamns and the lightnings roll over and over 
in the hump of glass a sweet voice sings 
and yet there is no one to be seen in the hump 
there’s not even a deaf and dumb grain of sand in it 
palettes with noses lie on black feathers 
and listen attentively to the voice 
clouds with bandaged eyes approach curiously 
the palettes with noses beckon them not to intrude 
the commas and full stops jump into the hats of kisses 
to escape from the hair-raising springtime

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