Convalescent thoughts At daybreak's dawnwalk, Go round the satellite mind, Centerpoint incarnate, As moons go round their Jupiter, Pearl-luminescent nexus Tilting stilts. The air in the park is clear and crisp. Moonshine or dayshine, A motioning round Round and round goes As goes its rounds. So just what is it, really, about Reality, This clear clave And garrulous guiro gone round, that, Questioning it, creates it? …Oracular words dissolve the uttering tongue… This is but an example, Periplum polaroid, An instance of a notion perplexly drawn In irreverent wind, A mobile mote let down From Plato's pinkening statuary, Drifting whichwise Through infinity. The air in the park Goes round and round.