the right-hand has no means
to procure it’s daily food
and the left-hand is
as if it were the son of a king
the local trains that run in-between them
naturally become very much thoughtful
as if it were the soap-water
oozing from the axe
or it were a vegetable-garden
that has lost its way
under the full-moon of buddha’s birth
the pregnant woman
on whose face is written such music
is also brought up by the walls
the morning-dress
that confounds the eyes
rapidly enters into the circus-tent
the horse-power of the pigeons
is continuously getting accelerated
there is syringe-full of smile
on the lips of the bugle
that sings from the divan
does the anklet that is
set with small bells
and moistened by such saliva
spread far to the root-end
