UNIVERSITY OF HUNGER

Is the university of hunger the wide waste,

Is the pilgrimage of man the long march.

The print of hunger wanders in the land

The green tree bends above the long forgotten

The plains of life rise up and fall in spasms

The roofs of men are fused in misery.

They come treading in the hoof marks of the mule

passing the ancient bridge:

the grave of pride

the sudden flight

the terror and the time.

They come from the distant village of the flood

passing from middle air to middle earth in the common hours of nakedness.

Twin bars of hunger mark their metal brows t

twin seasons mock them parching drought and flood.

is the dark ones

the half sunken in the land

is they who had no voice in the emptiness

in the unbelievable

in the shadowless.

They come treading on the mud floor of the year

mingling with dark heavy water

And the sea sound of the eyeless flitting bat,

O long is the march of men and long is the life

And wide is the span.

is air dust and the long distance of memory

is the hour of rain when sleepless toads are silent

is broken chimneys smokeless in the wind

is brown trash huts and jagged mounds of iron.

They come in long lines toward the broad city.

is the golden moon like a big coin in the sky

is the floor of bone beneath the floor of flesh

is the beak of sickness breaking on the stone

O long is the march of men and long is the life

And wide is the span.

O cold is the cruel wind blowing

O cold is the hoe in the ground.

They come like sea birds

flapping in the wake of a boat

is the torture of sunset in purple bandages

is the powder of fire spread like dust in the twilight

is the water melodies of white foam on wrinkled sand.

The long streets of night move up and down

baring the thighs of a woman

and the cavern of generation.

The beating drum returns and dies away

the bearded men fall down and go to sleep

the cocks of dawn stand up and crow like bugles.

is they who rose early in the morning

watching the moon die in the dawn

is they who heard the shell blow and the iron clang

is they who had no voice in the emptiness

in the unbelievable

in the shadowless

O long is the march of men and long is the life

And wide is the span.