Spring 1950 • Vol. XII No. 2 Poetry |

Around the Fish 2: After Paul Klee

What did the tom-tom whisper, Or the Christmas candy dance? The falling rain became the brain And the fish's eye a glance. Does the tumbler on the left contain The mud of seven seas? And on the right, are those the ruins Of the Antipodes? The shrubbery He grew at home Became His parsley death, For undersea in the warm womb He drew a black breath. All on a black meridian, The moon, the sun, the cross; The crimson arrow points towards me, The blue plate speaks of loss. O exclamation mark in gray, Fat salmon dead on thin, The brain is seaweed thrown on clay, Death is a swimming man. The world in a fish's belly, A fish in the belly coiled—Two futile swimmers swim Toward what the red arrow spoiled.

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