The Fat Controller
The sun shines face full and brave
upon this street where humanity crawls - time
stopped and the same man on the same corner
is still calculating the secret of the universe:
he has his own agenda.
Full of his own mystery, he sits swaying
moaning, mumbling Kabala into his beard,
brow wrinkled and his eyes lost.
Time he worked it out, whatever it is,
stopped staring through pedestrians, stopped sleeping there
and shouting wildly at cars from his
island of boxes.
His agents are everywhere, communing telepathically
with pigeons, graffiti artists, Greek restaurant owners
and the proprietors of cat houses in Soho;
keeping him abreast of the city's ciphers
add numbers to his columns.
The statistician of the stars, the holder of runes.
Changes the script, gets with the planet, removes
scales from his eyes: the aliens are landing.
1997
upon this street where humanity crawls - time
stopped and the same man on the same corner
is still calculating the secret of the universe:
he has his own agenda.
Full of his own mystery, he sits swaying
moaning, mumbling Kabala into his beard,
brow wrinkled and his eyes lost.
Time he worked it out, whatever it is,
stopped staring through pedestrians, stopped sleeping there
and shouting wildly at cars from his
island of boxes.
His agents are everywhere, communing telepathically
with pigeons, graffiti artists, Greek restaurant owners
and the proprietors of cat houses in Soho;
keeping him abreast of the city's ciphers
add numbers to his columns.
The statistician of the stars, the holder of runes.
Changes the script, gets with the planet, removes
scales from his eyes: the aliens are landing.
1997
