News leaked out late last night . . .
It concerned the social effects upon the young
of recent industrial projects.
A boy escapes and cuts the cord
“before the city comes to know the reports of the diviners.”
The police are down there in their cars in the bright sun.
The Polyclinic at Verano is also there in the bright sun
that shines down on that old streetcar that passes along the avenue,
whose Authority is tolerated with no critique from the actual world. In the bright sun
the judges arrive on motor scooters instead.
They stop and start up again.
You young men drip chemicals into your veins and infect the blood of your brothers
with your inventive techniques. The donors are just boys
who dance, content with nothing, in the Joyous Tower. And yet their destiny
is crossed with yours. Perhaps, there is still time
since few pedestrians walk these streets at night
and those who do may seem scattered and lost
but they worship the cause of the Solar Presence.
How do I escape and cut this cord that binds me. No one
can resist a needle in the vein
and the Substantial One has no desire
to affirm or deny this.
April 27, 1969