When will the world be clean? Meaning
Ordered and voluble: it isn't enough
For things to be particles -- particles of what? --
I ask. I suppose it's a problem of vectors:
Everything has a direction, but it's all going nowhere.
Nowhere is the only place to be.
And don't answer that pleasure has something to do with it:
If I milk the sweetness of a human conspiracy,
What becomes of the milk? Cache it in pails,
You'll say. Bottle it, vend it at the market,
Sell it in stores. Keep it away for the rainy season.
No, it's all highly improbable: pleasure
Balances against pleasure, but there's not much gain.
Everything still is, and even if I weren't, somehow
It would all be the same. Movement
Implies direction, within the fixed category
Of beings as they are, but overall
Even time is a station-less, unpurged moment.
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