Wyatt, Charles

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Night's Death MaskSchubert's head was snail as a grapefruitl. Beethoven's, caught toe young for a scowl, Rested like a fish under its glass done.The library light filtered through the fingers Of Vagner's glove, aging from yellow To gray in miniscule refractions.Outside the yellow window,Night-cast shadows patterned the street.A shabby nan, standing marvelously erectOn his long legs, smashed a windowTo seize an armload of suitsAnd was sucked into the blacknessOf a side street, glass still falling.Above, I watched the spidered glass --Passers by, policemen,Rising like goldfish to feed Through the hole in the night.Turning, I passed the living remanents Of dead men, sealed against dust.Bubbles of glare swam between the bronze And the glass, lingering a moment After I snapped off the light.On The Behavior Of Castrated Lizards Journal Of Genetic Psychology, 1936 (to those involved)You seem not To need a kingdom,Those of you I know,Shy, short tempered,Rock hermits.I have never seen you Making love,Nor,(To my knowledge)Have you seen me —10 -

On the Behavior of Castrated Lizards Journal of Genetic Psychology, 1936 (to those involved)

http://ddd.uab.cat/pub/wormwood/wormwood_a1964v4n3i15/wormwood_a1964v4n3i15p10.pdf

On the Behavior of Castrated Lizards Journal of Genetic Psychology, 1936 (to those involved)

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