These things, delicious things,
Spontaneous things, delicate
Momentary things that gather
And so shatter and then
Smatter in ringlets and
Whorls and springcut curls delightfully
Such is memory and daydreams and spatters dibbling
Anecdotal fiddling of life
Distance worldly sites and these many
Things that occupy the mind
That one can not even cling
Are fried up fast as pickles and chips and when in sit
I have a second of passing through
Items far away and bodies
Bustling on roads not here
A wing of a kind as a
Turbine turn or a knob
Jiggling or a sudden winter rain
Solidly sticking all about like a photograph
Capturing me
A bee in a web
Drawn by the scent of sweetness and honey.