The Directors

See the roofs bend down at behest of moving picture
We are in montage up to plain omniscience,
The plot pieced, set to be sung and acted in,
And we act in it.

See the trees bend to the reel of moving picture,
The road unwind like plot not neat but nimbly,
The roofs come in, in crowd of complication:
We know the ending.

Not guess what goes behind the hundred windows
Or in the hundred trees that crack the curbstone,
But take it all up into plot and call it
Coming attraction.

We are in simple silence of excitement
Seeing the night unwind as we direct it,
Moving, under impress of moving picture,
Plot into morrow.