JESUS emptied the devils of one man into forty hogs and the hogs took the edge of a high rock and dropped off and down into
the sea: a mob.
The sheep on the hills of Australia, blundering fourfooted in the sunset mist to the dark, they go one way, they hunt one
sleep, they find one pocket of grass for all.
Karnak? Pyramids? Sphinx paws tall as a coolie? Tombs kept for kings and sacred cows? A mob.
Young roast pigs and naked dancing girls of Belshazzar, the room where a thousand sat guzzling when a hand wrote: Mene, mene,
tekel, upharsin? A mob.
The honeycomb of green that won the sun as the Hanging Gardens of Nineveh, flew to its shape at the hands of a mob that
followed the fingers of Nebuchadnezzar: a mob of one hand and one plan.
Stones of a circle of hills at Athens, staircases of a mountain in Peru, scattered clans of marble dragons in China: each a
mob on the rim of a sunrise: hammers and wagons have them now.
Locks and gates of Panama? The Union Pacific crossing deserts and tunneling mountains? The Woolworth on land and the
Titanic at sea? Lighthouses blinking a coast line from Labrador to Key West? Pigiron bars piled on a barge whistling
in a fog off Sheboygan? A mob: hammers and wagons have them to-morrow.
The mob? A typhoon tearing loose an island from thousand-year moorings and bastions, shooting a volcanic ash with a fire
tongue that licks up cities and peoples. Layers of worms eating rocks and forming loam and valley floors for potatoes, wheat,
The mob? A jag of lightning, a geyser, a gravel mass loosening
kills or builds
the mob is Attila or Ghengis Khan, the mob is Napoleon, Lincoln.
I am born in the mobI die in the mobthe same goes for youI dont care who you are.
I cross the sheets of fire in No Mans land for you, my brotherI slip a steel tooth into your throat, you my
brotherI die for you and I kill youIt is a twisted and gnarled thing, a crimson wool:
One more arch of stars,
In the night of our mist,
In the night of our tears.