There is this shambling gadget

all around me:

I stumble across switches and levers

hidden cleverly,

and this machine, in one deft lurch

hits me squarely in the face—

every time!

the riff monster

eats time and

shits musical

t

i

r

e

s for

-

(endless

limousines

god in

fetal position

with hands over eyes)

I feel hollow in you

your emergency of tree with seed

your petal hips

your penrose tile of iris

When the long wing of the wood

dresses you again in our garden

and the clock has carved its note

the ground will fill me