i don't even care
that the universe disperses
in the slow pulse of rivers
and reversals of contortion
nor do i wonder why

the method is the mayhem
in the cocks of shrews
as the clocks of mood
curlicue at this thunder
that rushes poor lightning
insignifigant in wind

no i do not care
as i take the sword from its scabbard
as i like water charge

the air tremelodiously
so much dissent in darkness