A Man Made Circular Chamber (for Lady Bruce)

what it asks for is
a single like word on the side of the ship
invisible
a cape of jewels
a great soft explosion whose only purpose
is to dream about color
too much emotion Barnabooth
when you drain it of war
left over these Indian bands
playing soft music for Mrs. Morse
the joining of peacock, mohawk, and accordion
and deep orange croonings
the snaking path down to the kris river
which sports a great potted palm
at the elbow of every changeable undus
like Dick Cavett in a little baggy
Caveat young wan
the professor of philosophy has seen your eye
sound of macaw
a small audience
much too small
this is such lovely water
what it asks for is
a single like word
in the ship of sides
a frozen explosion of jewels
each connected by molten golden bridgework
these english even think their tusk work divine
what a magnificent cottage!
yes professor
but I'm not sure it's a cave Petunia!