that there are 50(fifty)flics for every one(1)communist and all the flics are very organically arranged and their nucleus(composed of captains in freshly-creased -uniforms with only-just- shined buttons tidiyum before and behind)has a nucleolus: the Prefect of Police (a dapper derbied creature, swaggers daintily twiddling his tiny cane and, mazurkas about tweak- ing his wing collar pecking at his im -peccable cravat directing being shooting his cuffs saluted everywhere saluting reviewing processions of minions tappingpeopleontheback “allezcirculez”) --my he’s brave. . . . the communists pick up themselves friends & their hats legs & arms brush dirt coats smile looking hands spit blood teeth the Communists have(very)fine eyes (which stroll hither and thither through the evening in bruised narrow questioning faces) XI my sweet old etcetera aunt lucy during the recent war could and what is more did tell you just what everybody was fighting for, my sister isabel created hundreds (and hundreds)of socks not to mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers etcetera wristers etcetera, my mother hoped that i would die etcetera bravely of course my father used to become hoarse talking about how it was a privilege and if only he could meanwhile my self etcetera lay quietly in the deep mud et cetera (dreaming, et cetera, of Your smile eyes knees and of your Etcetera) THREE I now that fierce few flowers(stealthily) in the alive west begin requiescat this six feet of Breton big good body, which terminated in fists hair wood erect cursing hatless who (bent by wind)slammed hard-- over the tiller;clattered forward skidding in outrageous sabots language trickling pried his black mouth with fat jibing lips, once upon a (that is over: and the sea heaving indolent colourless forgets)time Requiescat. carry carefully the blessed large silent him into nibbling final worms II Among these red pieces of day(against which and quite silently hills made of blueandgreen paper scorchbend ingthem -selves-U pcurv E,into: anguish(clim b)ing s-p-i-r-a- l and,disappear) Satanic and blasé a black goat lookingly wanders There is nothing left of the world but into this noth ing il trene per Roma si-gnori? jerk. ilyr,ushes III it is winter a moon in the afternoon and warm air turning into January darkness up through which sprouting gently, the cathedral leans its dreamy spine against thick sunset