This is a place
quite unlike any other
where each thing stands apart
where nothing seems to be
like any other thing
at all
sharing nothing
but the bristling atmosphere
of iron-shavings on a magnet
where everything’s on edge
where watchful thought’s
brought bolt-upright
in the uneventful night
by the whirring fans
that spring to life
without warning
in all the usual appliances.
This is no country
for those poets or taxonomers
who find sinuous connection
among the binding sinews
of the world
between the living
and the gracious dead
or who driven by eternity
raise violent objection
to the universal law of entropy
but for those who find
in all this evidence
of disconnection
abruption and disruption
the story of creation
and in defenseless flesh
the imaginary agency
the neverending comedy
the unremitting urgency
of our unavoidable
and always less
than likely
communication.
