1

There are things
We live among 'and to see them
Is to know ourselves'.

Occurrence, a part
Of an infinite series,
The sad marvels;

Of this was told

A tale of our wickedness,
It is not our wickedness.

2

So spoke of the existence of things,
An unmanageable pantheon

Absolute, but they say
Arid.

A city of the corporations
Glassed
In dreams

And images —

And the pure joy
Of the mineral fact

Tho it is impenetrable

As the world, if it is matter,
Is impenetrable.

George Oppen, Of Being Numerous (NCP)