for
Betty
On a
scale of 1 to 10
the
rain falls wet
Lenin’s
mummy outlasts glasnost.
The
kingdom of cicadas rises and falls,
on a
scale of 1 to 10
our
caves are brighter now and less dank
diner
coffee keeps getting better
waitresses
get older and blonder
and
I don’t know for sure where all this goes
Nero
Wolfe would call it amphigory, 
nonsense
verse, nonsense with numbers,
on a
scale of 1 to 10
I’ve
hardly begun
the
muddy Orinoco impregnates the sea,
the
Homestead Act is far away
but
the prairies are still there
people
I knew got acres in Alaska
even
in the 1950s — ah, 
there’s
a number at last, or four of them,
all
of them but one on a scale of 1 to 10
and
that one was none
so
on a scale of 1 to 10
the
world has not even yet begun
and
all the pizza parlors and battleships
are
just illusions and I’m beginning
(speaking
of beginnings)
to
wonder about me, 
on a
scale of 1 to 10 am I here yet, 
is
there anyone behind this noise you hear,
people
buzzing about the cicadas, poor things,
they
don’t even exist on a scale of 1 to 10,
only
AndrĂ© Breton has got their number, 
Arcane
17
 from
long ago Gaspé, and Canada,
what
is Canada on a scale of 1 to 10,
and
shall I count the ways,
let
alone Massachusetts?
On a
scale of 1 to 10
pain
for instance is usually at zero or eleven
but
pleasure measures 
itself
meekly, how rarely joys
or
even blisses
get
past 8 or 9, 
and
from what we read in the Bible
heaven
doesn’t even get to 7,
all
those feathers, all that 
stone-age
music on tin harps.
But where
was I on a scale of 1 to 10,
was
I a pirate was I a priest,
all
nouns are 10 all verbs are maybe
depending
on who’s looking, 
on
who’s talking, 
and
who is listening?
On a
scale of 1 to 10
is
it you or is it him,
the
man in the moon, the woman in the wind
or
is it window, on a scale
of 1
to 10 is it even now yet, 
this
bright day I’m trying to believe
all
the numbers scattered round my feet,
birds
chasing beetles, shadows chasing sun,
on a
scale of 1 to 10
am I
even me?