Волны

           And,strikingofftheseobservationsspontaneously,Ielaboratemyself;differentiatemyselfand,listeningtothevoicethatsaysasIstrollpast,"Look!Takenoteofthat!"Iconceivemyselfcalledupontoprovide,somewinter’snight,ameaningforallmyobservations--alinethatrunsfromonetoanother,asummingupthatcompletes.Butsoliloquiesinbackstreetssoonpall.Ineedanaudience.Thatismydownfall.Thatalwaysrufflestheedgeofthefinalstatementandpreventsitfromforming.Icannotseatmyselfinsomesordideating-houseandorderthesameglassdayafterdayandimbuemyselfentirelyinonefluid--thislife.Imakemyphraseandrunoffwithittosomefurnishedroomwhereitwillbelitbydozensofcandles.Ineedeyesonmetodrawoutthesefrillsandfurbelows.Tobemyself(Inote)Ineedtheilluminationofotherpeople’seyes,andthereforecannotbeentirelysurewhatismyself.Theauthentics,likeLouis,likeRhoda,existmostcompletelyinsolitude.Theyresentillumination,reduplication.Theytosstheirpicturesoncepaintedfacedownwardonthefield.OnLouis’wordstheiceispackedthick.Hiswordsissuepressed,condensed,enduring.

           ’Iwish,then,afterthissomnolencetosparkle,many-facetedunderthelightofmyfriends’faces.Ihavebeentraversingthesunlessterritoryofnon-identity.Astrangeland.Ihaveheardinmymomentofappeasement,inmymomentofobliteratingsatisfaction,thesigh,asitgoesin,comesout,ofthetidethatdrawsbeyondthiscircleofbrightlight,thisdrummingofinsensatefury.Ihavehadonemomentofenormouspeace.