17 03 20

Whichever time stan­dard we’re on, the question
of how fast and whe­ther it’s worth it, we are
under­laid by drift in the form of mantle, and
that should be at least a start. If the woman
gets up in the mor­ning you could say it
was to be anoin­ted, if that (in this time)
weren’t so puny and obse­quious. The wrong
stan­dard makes it so, and the bru­tal fact
is that there’s no simple dif­fe­rence of opinion
invol­ved : the wrong is an entailment, and
fol­lows into the glo­wing tail of “his­to­ry” as
for example the Marxist comet burns with
such love­ly, fla­ring destruction.

That we could come off the time stan­dard is
a first (and pre­li­mi­na­ry) pro­po­sal ; having
nothing to do with some zeal about traverse
or the syn­chro­nous double twist of a minor
pro­tein. We could come off all that, to-
gether, into the nea­rest city of numbers
(of which there are four, & could be five). This
is just a pro­po­sal, set on the table to move
right out of range of those sicke­ning and
grea­sy sureties—like « back to our proper
homes » (or look after the Golden Rose).

The homing ins­tinct of a great deal
else might then be cra­cked up : the loving
magne­tism by which conse­quence springs
to atten­tive dis­play in the field of roses.
That, say, and the jus­tice of what we
are said to deserve when so hopelessly
we want so much more. We do not
get what we deserve, ever, since we have
pro­per claim by the limits of hope and
howe­ver far a given desire has within range.

So, we could come off that stan­dard, and
“pos­ses­sive indi­vi­dua­lism” would be who we
are—the first city. Break the char­ter, lift
the harlot’s curse, the revol­ted abstraction
of “popu­lism” by which the dark is so feared.
Holding hands is a dis­gus­ting trick, and is
aug­men­ted by the expec­ta­tion of plenty.

Which would set out our past as gained
into the ter­ri­to­ry of for­tune, and dis­pose of
that lum­py yarn run­ning back into the trees.
Again, what we recall is the choice, of our
pre­va­lence, the rich gar­den of the climatic
ter­rain. And choice is not then one from
“the rest”—the éli­tist dream of the crown
domed in the Castle of Gold—but an
inclu­sion within that mea­sure, of choice,
the second city of this middle earth.

And the ques­tion of “exchange” is thereby
also dis­mant­led. The dis­pute, over how
far the values are trim­med, is strict­ly a
consequent dis­tur­bance, since “fair price”
is only the extent of our fears in the
chest, of wha­te­ver sun­dry moth & rust
we see in our age. “Our age”—at it
again, the cre­dible is what we apt­ly wear
in our timid & ten­der years. The standard
is a fear index, a mea­sure of what (for ex-
ample) “natu­ral gas” will do to a pre-
carious eco­no­my. Whoever in some sheltered
domain cal­led that vapour “natu­ral” deserves
to laugh right into the desert. These are the
arid dis­pla­ce­ments beyond which lies in its state
the third city, or the jewel of the air.

Further than this, up to our necks in our
pol­lu­ted his­to­ry, the fourth city is not yet known.
Going off the stan­dard is thus far only a
pro­po­sal : the mantle is warm and in
constant flow, but no man has yet crossed
the plains. No trum­pets in any case for such
banal fol­ly : the modest hatred of our con-
dition and the com­pe­ti­tion which we therefore
call time. They will not sound, as we cannot
yet see the other side, but we deserve to, and
if we can see thus far, these are the few
outer lights of the city, bur­ning on the horizon.

,
« Numbers in Time of Trouble » Kitchen Poems [1968]
,
in Poems
, , ,
p. 17–18