Paterson: Book II, Chapter 1, p. 45--(so close are we to ruin every day!)

(so close are we to ruin every day)

the waves begin so forcefully

and move so rapidly light flecks from them

in urgent bursts

of unbelievable whiteness.

Windows break, as bodies also break,

and thousands of eyes collect, signal, and transmit

a thing not yet filtered, understood, or seen.

...

Death pushes me from death.

The spectacle adds distance

in years, thoughts, and means:

I cannot die like this.

I know your secret, my betrothed:
you are not a ghost,
you are a lover.  Like a lover,

I know you less for your body,

and I make you exotic.  

I cannot die

Like this.

I will sleep in. 

...

8 minutes ago,

the sun erupted

 like a million

Hiroshimas;

plasma flared

one hundred thousand miles

into empty space;

and light explodes

across the foot of my bed

like a bomb.

KMC 4/16/13