a pottery angel

rises from the mantelpiece
to the gallus energy

of new morning
the entelechy of words

works through sleep, we dream
repeats, we have

all the time in the world
to design cities

weed vegetable beds
watch pittosporum flowers

bloom and dwine
I have faith

that the buddhists
will manufacture moments

for those who are short
when they get their commercial arm

fully muscled
the wise man is not erudite

and so say all of us
it’s almost morning, trucks

thunder the road