Like we are being acted on, the Romany of the world The chaffinch lifts her note and all a-sudden's changed The porter to the gatehouse ambles opens up the port Or in or out seems best betimes to be our ways to go

A theatre circumscribed by tableau bayes of ancient bards Riposters camped within are we who bounce-off excitations Variant flings we cast up here in sensory habitations And no finales, merely weary clashing biscuit tins

Insiders in-the-know, haloes-aglow eye-twinklings Ne'er-do-well, ne'er-say-die, apologetics desperadoes Reach for the sky to catch, hang out to dry, a washday rainbow And bring it down to earth

Ornery mules, who truck with luck to buck the system If only the last and needed piece would stay put on Yea, go for beyonds, man, dangle fool's hope, it all ends the same: Most miserable of men: Ah, who can save me from the body of this death?

The Voyager Spacecraft left the Solar System Beeps its way out until beep-beep disperses passed away Become a cat-in-a-box now; have-at fate both ways It's there, dead as a failure and lives resonating too

Crossed fingers letting-go, the Almanac escapes, grows wings, Virtual, virtuous; to crest beyond all meddlesome connectives There on the Ship in space Grace rides besides, and, chasing, tribulation: At home, alone, synapses give me here this present consolation