The day black and white got a break
Was the day he and she and they
Thought of those things black and white could convey,
That is, those things could be turned into black and white
And be clear to minds.
There was a cloister and the rich man bought it,
Brought it to where old man four-eyes could
Sit on the edge, lean on the columns and all this,
Old man and his hat, shadows and stone, was
Down in black and white. The fingers of that girl
Holding a book were down in black and white
And the book was mauve on old ivory
But this secret died, the reporter
Didn't note it, no one who was there remembers.
Melvin lit his pipe,
Brown brier and yellow match flame
Were rendered in tones of grey near his nose sniffing
The first puffs. Palm leaves zig-zag there
And thoughts glide through to the black iron fire escape stairs
Of multistoried thought buildings, clay tile-
Parapeted in the slanting sun of just that afternoon.
Burgeoning freight cars of black and white
Overloaded with meaning and bursting their sealed doors
Wait on the sidings of reverie. That man seeing
All that is not brooding, is detail-enchanted,
The traceries are pearl's value,
Hair of girl, disordered, fold of five and dime blouse,
Curve of whisker, gleam of smiling dentures, petals' pale glow.
Bursting this car's seal, we shall shun the story angle,
Leaving color tonalities to the more sensual impresario,
And sniff bouquet of geometry in these
Blinds out of focus,
Light and dark stripes of grey alternating,
Next a firm jaw,
Sure hands holding the scissors over a head of curls,
Working horizontal hands crossed by
The stern verticals of drape. This car carries the exact
Look of a pair of almond-shaped eyes of woman
Cast on pasteboard for as long as paper lasts,
Newly arrived in the company of pairs of dynastic eyes
Egyptian drew, fixed on paper too and plainly speaking
     the message of self.
The closed umbrella's form peers out from the
Car of black and white and it is married there to the taxiing
Airliner's compact fuselage. The automobile lasts longer
In black and white than in steel.
The disdainful look in the reposing cat's eye
Is entirely present in black andwhite and the
Quality of fur is transferable to mind
Along with effect of whisker.
I see silver objects on flat pulp
And the arm of the seller near the arm
Of the buyer. The light's glint on the silver
Is held and the elegance of old porcelain
Is in that plate on the shelf level with
The seller s bending head.
The child whose face will be of another form
In another year will not change on the cherished cardboard
     of the father's desk drawer.
The sea, the wind on grass, the house's roof,
Gables, and windows, the ship, the road,
Everything in Walt Whitman's poems, the sun on
Old stone and on newly cut stone, the fair girl's
Proud brows and full cheeks, the nervous man's posture,
The tilt of the dandy's hat, the brooding clock's stance,
The look of the striped shirt and the look of the white shirt,
The old ladder's condition, the baby's eagerness and the
     old workman's casualness
The telephone pole's splendid isolation and connectedness,
The grandmother's smile of approval for her grandchild,
The summer forest's interlacing multiplicity,
The round wheel's neatness and the grass's nonchalance,
The picnic's content, the pool's smoothness,
The old man's thoughtfulness,
All these things and ever so many more
Eagerly are carried by the bursting cars of black and white
And he and she and they knew it that day
And for the self of William it meant, victory.