U

nder hypnosis eyes spinning,

two cardboard tokens taking

you down a bleak caribou |

trail take a look at how she’s doing

exactly what you do, she’s doing it

| too. Even so, I poke through the

thin papery shell of the Argonaut |

when my hands are cold & boxing

glovelike. Each is curled like a small

cashew | hardly able to do more

than hang there as an impression

of a hand on a warpath | Fingers

at least trying to do some- thing

with the buttery marble slabs,

this hoof | still unable to twist the

tiny screws & unpin the claws of

tiny gem sets on rings. | Subtitle:

A pathway to riches. “Certainly

there is a set of infinite wonder

in hand”- “Who said that?” Oh,

just boas | playing their infinite

role as the snakes who talk man

out of the ocean, up | into some

opaque-r place to walk, on frozen

egg whites to call “taxi, taxi!” then

“taxi, taxi!” | when we all know the

taxi never picks up, because that’s

something we all know.