A HOST OF GADGETS BURSTING OPEN WHITE LIGHT

By linking together in a long opaque chain
molded over and over whatever its beginnning,
looking like a blued and purpled straight steel
with men instead of automatic controls, already doped

We are shaded eyes
the rod of silicon--and an elliptical sunrise
that does not come back
our bodies are preserved in lunar vessels,
far from here, the bride refused to slog through the mud

Man has tasted the solitary power and the door-to-door convenience
within the megalopolis the streets are still locked
chicken tracks and children to ten metal cans, each about the size of a pea
included telephones and stoves--objects drawn--
the skeleton punches floods, plagues, changes in appearance

.`.`.`.`