Experts torn from the wind and trees and screens
shaking formula off their fingertips;
sprouting from their ditches of ether
with new hands and new fingertips
breaking the construct of themselves to think like water,
mapping the contours of the earth with their radiant bellies,
dodging a worm in the print
to be a hollow gram in the pitcher
unpoured, silent captive
of this painting who invites madness.