Bits of Poems by Hans Jean Arp

You’ve got to play it square
with the four eggs in the four corners
round like the ball of bones
capering in the void
round like the pendulum of stars
while I lick my own body
as the day licks its own body
between heaven and lunch.
The nighttime of wax!
The enormous jewish butterflies rock themselves on the sea
and break the soft-boiled eggs
in goose-pimples
You feel much better, you’re looking well
You’re eating vitamins like a ferris wheel

From Hans Jean Arp, Arp on Arp (The Documents of 20th Century Art)

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