272

For a few years
The razor blade
Jumps across the prosody

Hand out the slips of paper
And time after time
They'll come one out of ten

To put this all into a box
And the box into the basement
A resinous smoke rising over

The Navy Yard

A diagramless
Finds us anagramming
Oracles
When all day's spare

Chronic ear
Alerts us to
I mean the bell rings
Around