i wait for death as i might, with the same sordid
apathetic splendour: waiting for a bus:
to commute me a mile closer to the designated
spot of the favour scattered,
with the travel lessened minding effort utilised,
and travel spoken of, no more, i too wait for death
like a laziness of fathomed living, re- (i.e. repeat,
sundial eclipse mormon nuns gorgon fleece):
on the hearth pride of my dead body rests,
on the hearth honour of my dead body rests,
on the haystack, my life, a needle,
and here comes the camel, the fourth magi,
of the three designated, given pyramidal superiority,
given relevance to mistake the gifts as gilded
artefacts of a bow-tie, where once a treasure lay
for magic to be readied on public eye entertained.