Jack Spicer

"Collected Poems,

Berkeley In a Time of Plague

Plague took us and the land under us,

Rose like a boil, enclosing us within.

We waited and the blue sky writhed awhile

Becoming black with death.

Plague took us and the chairs from under us,

Stepped cautiously while entering the room,

(We were discussing Yeats) it paused awhile

Then smiled and made us die.

Plague took us, laughed, and reproportioned us,

Swelled us to dizzy unaccustomed size.

We died prodigiously; it hurt awhile

But left a certain quiet in our eyes.

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Poet X