The idiot greens the meadow with his eyes,
The meadow creeps implacable and still;
A dog barks, the hammock swings, he lies.
One two three the cows bulge on the hill.
Motion that is not time erects
While sister's hand sieves waterfalls of lace.
With a palm fan closer than death he
The Ozarks and tilted seas across his face.
In the long sunset where impatient
Strips niggers to a multiple of
Flies yield their heat, magnolias drench the
With Appomattox!
The shadows lie in stacks.
The julep glass weaves echoes in Jim's
While ashy Jim puts murmurs in the day;
Now in the idiot's heart a chamber
Of dead asters, as the potter's field of May.
All evening the marsh is a slick
Where dream wild hares, witch hazel, pretty girls."Up from the important picnic of a
Those rotted asters!" Eddy on eddy
The innocent mansion of a panthers heart!
It crumbles, tick-tick time drags it
Till now his arteries lag and now they
Reverence with the frigid gusts of sin.
The stillness pelts the eye, assaults the hair;
A beech sticks out a branch to warn the stars,
A lightening-bug jerks angles in the air,
Diving. "I am the captain of new wars!"The dusk runs down the lane driven like hail;
Far off a precise whistle is
To the dark; and then the towering weak and
Covers his eyes with memory like a sheet.
