All right, it hasn't really been six weeks,
And I've been busy. When the circus left,
I was about my less enlightened craft.
Now every motion of my body lacks
The sense of singing. All the animals
Have gone to entertain the shopping malls.
A prisoner can gild a caliph's house
He can't inhabit. Old, I bear the name
I gave myself before my art had come;
And I live in a lodging without lease.
I buff the floors, and still the floors declare
They head nowhere I have not been before.
The cages of the animals collapse;
The clowns have wheels beneath their living rooms.
Too late to try out any other names
Or board the caliph's azure sailing ships,
I sit before a battered desk and wait,
The sound of words like incandescent light.