I don't read Robert Duncan systematically. I hit upon poems by chance, by a footnote in the Letters, take a couple at a time. On occasions it's as though you're being nudged (which I know sounds ridiculous, but still ...).
So this pops up early this morning:
"And does not the spirit attend secretly
the music that is hidden away from me,
chords that hold the stars in their courses,
outfoldings of sound from the seed of first light?
Were it not for the orders of music hidden
we should be claimd by the preponderant void."
(from ‘Four Pictures of the Real Universe’)
I could imagine Cornell scribbling that on the back of a donut wrapper and squirreling it away.