i give myself over to the hallucination of
the day
the technological trees are teaching english
i see into the souls of things
and what i see is what is not
in this age of tired irony and tired
innocence
whatever energies are left humanity
in this jumble of wire and posts
though they cannot be prayed to
i pray
(though what is prayed cannot be known)
even my coffee sings another language
and dreams of dead birds crawl on the windows
