* * *
(as you go into Seir or Ives)
once worlds were
small as battleships
or nine dozen ballfields
enough to be perfect
but a number of things
now go wrong
mysterious expectation
with the worlds merged
no god-like power
that we can conceive
we see in front ahead
and why not be there
while math is quite the bag
of a half nonillion tricks
so Goya went mad in the end something like
