JACOB, TO SURMISE THE YARD
The pot boiler is all-inclusive. This man writes with
his nose - mysteries and yard-arms together abound.
Every instance of simulacrum, he inhabits. Liturgical
tricks, turning matter into gold - all I ever wanted was
his manner. Right here, I am outside his fence, to be
thinking of what he is doing - him and his kin, that
fearsome family of five. I watched them, together, once.
They were erecting a tent in the center of his yard. It
went up slowly, and then all billowy and white it stayed
for a few days. Until some huge lawn party intervened,
and it filled with people, laughter, drinks and food.
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