POKING your eyes out and wandering
The desert outskirts of the then polis
Wasn't deemed sufficient fate for you

You had to be hacked to pieces by naiads
Setting your lyre afloat on a river, a glint
on the very air of this park that closes at dusk

The throaty song of Wood Thrush
stirs the world about us, immediate!
Electricity and Chemistry, old friends again.