from "Litany"

(John Ashbery)

If all the retinues of all
The archdukes stretched away into a powdery

Infinity, and you stood

On the top step but one, waiting to advance

Your argument into the aura, and time suddenly

At that moment seemed to sag, and the staircase

Became a giant hammock littered with dead leaves

And ants, and the horizon of the universe

Raised it up into something bald and filled

With unexpressed and inexpressible menace,

No word of which would ever

Attest to the configuration of desires

That had gone into its construction, dark now,

Absent-minded flowers, reticent birds, and much

Else that is scarcely present, needing

No avenue, no way to be born,

What would greet you? Which might be

What you want to tell me: open the door.