When one wants blank verse right away
with five feet or even better wheels
round-abouts for writing’s reel
casts the time that’s said to heel
Sharply the language of laundry mats
dumps whirlpools in washers and vortices flat
unwashed mouths, defiled hearts
seek after better warps and time-traveling restarts
while such tangible stains remain
To a third stanza
the one written next to the doors
like Baghdad, Texas
of the driers and last exits beyond
those that one could wish for no more
because forever the time goes round and round better wheels asking
eternal day beyond time.
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