Permanently
—Kenneth Koch
One day the Nouns were clustered in the street.
An Adjective walked by, with her dark beauty.
The Nouns were struck, moved, changed.
The next day a Verb drove up, and created the Sentence.
Each Sentence says one thing—for example, “Although it was a dark
rainy day when the Adjective walked by, I shall remember the pure
and sweet expression on her face until the day I perish from the
green, effective earth.”
Or, “Will you please close the window, Andrew?”
Or, for example, “Thank you, the pink pot of flowers on the window
sill has changed color recently to a light yellow, due to the heat from
the boiler factory which exists nearby.”
In the springtime the Sentences and the Nouns lay silently on the grass.
A lonely Conjunction here and there would call, “And! But!”
But the Adjective did not emerge.
As the adjective is lost in the sentence,
So I am lost in your eyes, ears, nose, and throat&emdash;
You have enchanted me with a single kiss
Which can never be undone
Until the destruction of language.
