This poem was originally typeset in uppercase.
I RIDE
TO THE
SOUND
OF SOOTHINGLY
VIOLENT
MUSIC
AS A
PUZZLE
OF INVISIBLE
FLESH
AS THE
WIND
I RIDE
A CONTRAPTION
ON MECHANICAL
WINGS
SURROUNDED
BUT ALONE
A GOD
YET BLIND
THE EARTH
RAN
BENEATH
MY FEET
A DEAD
MOTH
ON THE
WIND
SHIELD
YET UNWIPED
THE WIND
FLAPPING
ITS WINGS
AND STILL
SULLEN
YET
ALIVE
THE MORNING
RIDE
FROM A
PLACE
OF FORGED
SADNESS
TO A
PLACE
OF COUNTERFEIT
PASSION
AND THE
SKY
AND THE
WIND