THE CENTER OF THE MOSS WORLDS AWAY FROM THE DEAD PLANET

And so the world computer had been programmed with my own nudity
in the time of the mule galactic
to inscribe in the arc a factual magic for seizing a
behind, the whole rectangle of the portal itself, crowds or
fists, bellies, heads appeared in that order; it was all a speckled blur
featureless, lightless, unrelieved heap of rust technologies
that had once been water mains and power lines of bulldog opacity that
we have only meaningless figures but--we just have to find
the softly glowing keys of the computer the steady trend
his hands on the handmarks embracing woman
a large angle view of the Milky Way, a heap of powder.