The way a word tastes
to the mind, to the duty
of protecting beauty
of a walnut tree
in a land brazen now
like never before
by a deity who doesn't care
about us one way or another
making our round
past the threshold
of a clandestine door
though a causeway
in between the old,
in fever, crowded,
and a new country
that uses machinery oiled
to make sparse the whole field
of being imaginary.
I stand with a camera
to offer you irrefutable proof.
You turned it slowly over.