from The Walk
The flowering kaleidoscope rests its vision
against the eyes of the preschool seer.
He, with wide eyes surveying
the familiar lands unknown
darts, as from rose to rose the bee,
so he to the room.
What reality upmixed into jangling shapes
presents itself unattractive to the eye?
The divine proboscis scintillates
a patchwork plastic medley,
mirroring mirroring mirroring
the darkness out of dark.