Don't go looking for a tidy story here. The poem works more like a sequence of odd, sharp pictures that slide into one another by sound and suggestion. Days are "diagonal," as if time has tilted and nothing sits level. The line "from the goalpost to the dagger" moves from a game to a weapon, so play and violence seem to sit close together, and the eye is pulled sideways across the space between them.
"Bats a ghost ago" is a puzzling phrase, but it plays with time. Bats, ghosts and "ago" all suggest something night-like and half-vanished. Then the speaker says to "invent the slant horizon," which sounds like a small instruction to make a new way of seeing. The final line, "the bees are in the buzz," is almost circular: the thing is inside its own sound.
The speaker's feeling is hard to pin down, but the mood is playful, uneasy and dreamlike. It invites you to enjoy the language itself rather than decode it.