By William Carlos Williams
No pretense no more than the
French painters of
the early years of the nineteenth century
to scant the truth
of the light itself as
it was reflected from
a ballerinas thigh this Ginsberg
of Kaddish falls apart
violently to a peal of laughter or to
wrenched imprecation from a
man's head nothing can
stop the truth of it art is all we
can say to reverse
the chain of events and make a pileup
of passion to match the stars
No choice but between
a certain variation
hard to perceive in a shade of blue
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