"Because There's So Much Speed."
Because there's so much speed without any place to go
and driven blind as light, we rush from stone to stone
to prove this is the world.
I like the subtle snail.
Wound in its wooden fog, it crawls across my yard.
And where it goes it paints the ground with useless roads.
Day and night in its world leaves fall without a sound.
And flowers become suns that bugs,
like little planets in a green astronomy,
go round and round and round.