Put me below where every rattle runs through
Where you can hear the slosh
Feel what really moves things along
Pay respect, as is due, to those poles that warp
Our pathlines northernly, southishly
Lie me across the midline of the doldrums, so that I can turn myself to one side
And breathe in one fragrant hemisphere
And turn myself the other way
And take in the brace of the other
Put me down below
Let me fear the wide swath of the horse latitudes
Batten me down
Beneath the tropics
Above the arctic-tonguing westerlies
I find all love here; every Magnetism, and every dismembering ministry of
Tiny hungry million-to-a-mesh things
Put me down below
To where I might be of some use to them
Put me in the fabric
Put me down below
In the conspiratorial cells
Let me hear what they are thinking to make next
