Cheap knot of sparrows—
somehow I know
you're the
undisclosed masters
of all of the air between
here and there;
for you're
manic as preachers
whose sermons
are their bodies—
which are hurled all around me
like pointed brown echoes,
great tails of reverb
which rebound without end
between two very clear and
frictionless mirrors—
and it must be a strange-yet-
ideal piece of physics
which is always unconcerned
with the state of my happiness,
but never in itself
unhappy.
