Dinners doctors
Bingo
Hospitals
and the
Social whirl
No time
for rhyme

Green to the eye
begets the visage: life-
Startlingly simple,
a color tells it all.

So ‘tis with the note
and the morning earth is smelly-
I ask,
by what happy accident
is everything made plain?

Like a dog bearing its belly
or a moth sleeping in daylight-
the unapparent thing of life
these words just cannot say.

Sky looks deserted,
The army of clouds retreated;
Calamitous moves!

we are the dunes formed
by prevailing desert winds
of people and time