Winter 1958 • Vol. XX No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1958 |

Point of Change

In the marble depot, out of the wind-aimed weather, The multiple man stands in the trampling hall. Vaguely he looks for the red nightcap of his father And waves goodbye to his strangers wishing well. From the steeple of his intent, the doming bells Re-echo. Circling carrier pigeons flutter A ticketing shower of foreign exchanging gulls, Or maybe realm of the pocket coin is better. The far off rocking rails are quenched with water. Widening quakes break hulls of sailing ships And birds confuse the air. All tea is bitter Along the avenue of quasi-shops. The ticket teller selling never stops. He takes and makes his profit in his cage. And he who stands within the hall and gapes Must buy and try to find the gates to dodge. Around the marble depot darkies lodge And plead persuasion. Besieged, the multi-man Pays and sells and rides the rails, to pledge Allegiance to the only world he's on.

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