Ol’ mind is appreciably soluble
tho not rigorously pure

He takes the picture, & a while, & the road
getting hold of by making

Too, he hangs to vestiges
as if seeing through a doorcrack

I reckon his mechanism’s sum
is all crackle & spook’t thump

What he seeks he moves the edges
so the center won’t appear

Trick is that he’ll keep things :
a certain song, a syntax, a sop

you dipped in wine.