Here it is
People die
Toddlers chuckle
I am imprisoned in passion

I wish a were a piece of plastic
I will be dirt quite soon enough
Or perhaps burnt wholly
Entropic diffusion

Make a world in foursquare lines
Lash all conflict under compact phrases
All joy all anxiety all enthusiasm
All physics all mathematics all fact and reason

Ignore both the general and the peculiar
Both the abstract and the concrete
Both the invisible and the visible
Only all everything the universal and the exhaustive

But dirt will never be I
Hell
I’m barely I as it it is
Not enough or too much

And yet I once soared aloft in a cardboard space capsule
Once lost a loved one in dusty death
Once beheld beauty in a blue kimono
And ah the apple breasts