it is one enough
that so often a dreamt horror
can be forward and backward
a present delight
shadowed restful garden
wood-still life as dolls
in sitting.
Derelict gnome between long-legged leaves;
they might petrify before having eyes
owing to time dying ceaseless;
for never rises the sun,
but in a circle falls
'round the Earth.
By extension, pictures fade
but good memory worth a few words
when dogs do not live forever,
and bumblebees need rainwater to live.
The subject and object sleeping sound,
woken by an artless actor,
flail and stretch and gesture a wild mourning
without even a primitive soul,
wriggling and digging in the detritus
for trash with a sweet creamy filling.
