First One is the shaker; then the shaken: all wits and projection.
But One wants to be One! Withhold oneself, Join not the combustion,
the communitarian fever to be ruled, set, open. One
wants to be shut off; One's eyes are not wideset; One is not even formed,
no eyes—not One. Nothing real to see yet. A one wants to shake one,
as if somewhere in the glyph thou art gone wrong, repellant but to whom.

One isn't necessarily any of those ones, any ones at all.
Amoeba hesitates to speak. You have to split to speak. One speaks,
One's ever spoken, even in glyph. Name of language is glyphese...

Thus someone's shaken One, or One shakes One; or One watches—which is
to speak. To write? One's body's written in the glyph. For who to read?


from 
For the Ride
by Alice Notley